Tallow Candles and the Offal Stench

I try.

But I can’t see it.

I know it must be there,

Somewhere —

A reason for the fight —

Scathed by grace’s belting straps.

A reason for the pain —

Scorching like wild fire's white-hot wall.

A reason for the hate —

Scorned by wicked tongue’s mindless fork.

I know I am not all right.

Left to the bloating leeches,

bleeding the mind inside my head.

Shouldering the weight,

but my legs are weak.

Keepsakes are bitter folds of memory.

Grimacing at the entrails —

The disembowelment of tomorrow.

Holding out my empty hands,

lost hold of control.

My afflictions have reshaped the course.

Racing time to the finish.

Staring down into the mirror,

watching another line fade,

tapping the glass for one more drink.

One more another will never satiate this ache.

Another one more will never alleviate these stains.

But, I try,

anyway —

To make it all go away.

Flayed in the slipstream of someday,

a plague always remaining the same.