anonymous.

The alcoholic sip of air
immerses the pain,
rage ripples the iris
takes hold of my tears
rips apart the joy of life washed in sin

despair focused
prepares the stench of death
bathed in lust

the addiction that itches the skin
crawls beneath,
waiting
for the moment of uncontrolled fever

smirks in the corner
as I bite another piece of me.

The wax baked on limp dreams
that I was special

within the fire of hate
the circle of make believe

goodbye, my lover
my friend and confidant:

my alter ego.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw