Weapons of man’s destruction
Now rest in my hands
Words lost in the void
Drowned out by demon’s snarls
No longer myself
Regret lay heavy
Swallowed by hate, shame, loss
I travel there now
Not keeping steady
I venture this on my own
Not asking for help
Shh, shh, quiet now
The handgun whispers sweetly
My final poem
Accepted Fate – Alexander(5 stanza haiku)
The ball of cotton in mouth is the reminder of what I did last night, not that I can remember much of it. Nothing like paying homage to my fucked-up life with more than two-thirds a bottle of Johnny.
Yeah, sounds about right.
Once I’m able to open my eyes and sit up, I find I’m not home, or sprawled out on the couch at the bar.
And why am I fucking naked?
What the hell happened last night?
Let’s back track to what I can remember.It was a slow night, I sent everyone home early, made myself wings for dinner, and stayed to work on the never-ending paperwork. One thing led to another, my thoughts became something other than my own; the demons taunts churned like level five rapids, encouraging me to take to the bottle, and drink away my regrets. I wanted nothing more than to shut them up for any amount of time, potentially forever if I could get the ratio right. So far sadly, that hasn’t happened.
*Demons*Ohh, we had fun with you last night, Zander. A little nod to the past to bring about your misdeeds.
Rubbing at my eyes to clear the blurry vision, I glance around to find I’m in a familiar room, Lili’s room. The scent of her permeated the atmosphere, the mood set in a pitter-pattering of rain on fresh lavender. My sweet Lili.
How did I end up here?
Turning slowly, I find a glass of water and an uncapped bottle of pain relief lay waiting for me on the side table.
I pop a few pills in my mouth and chase it down reluctantly with the water provided.
A pair of basketball shorts rest at the end of the bed so I pull them on and stagger to the exit. Opening the bedroom door, my stomach gave a grumble of both pleasure and disgust at the smell coming from the other room.
Strong coffee.to get me through the day.
I take it slow down the hallway, the sound of bacon sizzling, and sweet humming encouraging me to continue.I Caught Fireby The Used croons through the speaker on the counter.
She’s listening to our playlist.It’s a much better sound to hear than the playlist I’ve held on to as of late; Motionless in White’sVoices, Linkin Park’sCrawling, and Shinedown’s45tops the charts on my demon’s brutalization of my mental state. They do enjoy it when I reach my low point, then they dig in even deeper, catching wind of my vulnerability and claiming what they believe to belong to them.