It is now just me.
Well, Me and the Demon.
That creature of horror and poison
That stalks through my days and nights;
A fiery Leviathan of wanton destruction.
Stripped away are all the gossamer layers of protection,
Left bare to the truth of what I really face:
I battle a foe so pernicious that it will
Only end with my final ragged breath.
Like a man on a mission I have made a daily habit
Of hiding behind drugs, liquor, life and faith.
Anything to keep the monster’s truth at bay.
Anything to keep that terrible truth from being uttered.
“This struggle is going to kill me.”
End of story.
End of hope.
Just the bare bones of Truth.
I will never escape this hell alive.
I can buy a little time.
A day, an hour, a few more beats
Of my murderously unfaithful heart.
But in the end, everything I am or was, will be
Destroyed by the Beast hunting me.
It tears me down piece by screaming piece,
Chunk by quivering chunk.
Soaking every fond memory or day gone by in my very own blood,
It resolutely devours every good thing about me.
And all I can do is …
sit here …
and friggin’ watch.
I merely gaze on impotently as everything I was and could be is tainted and spoiled by…
The words echo like the incoming sea against the vaults of my mind:
“This. Thing. Is. Going. To. Kill. Me.”
And I can really do is
Hope it hurries the hell up and gets it frigging done already.