Bosom of Hades

I’m sat at the bar. Beer consuming my being. Feeling my world is caving in. Thoughts flash through the empty vessel masquerading as my brain. Am I going insane or just a sorry excuse for a man. I stand like a circus performer, a target for the daggers, wishing one would go astray and pierce my broken heart. For a start it wasn’t meant to be this way. I earned an honest living, paid my dues,now I drink every day. The alcohol searing through my veins to the point of inevitable destruction. A dereliction of my duty as a man a father a husband. I can’t remember the moment when I stood at the top of the hill and looked down towards the abyss. A black hole with no way out. I did shout, oh god how I shouted. So loud it made my ears bleed. But no one took heed of my cries my desperate pleas for a return to normality to a life where comfort in skin was akin to an instant lottery win. But why would they? They knew or did they? Could they not see me sliding lower, losing self esteem. Reflecting on being a has been. So here I am a loser sitting alone on a stool at the local boozer. Another pint another memory obliterated. A required numbness to free me from the pain of reality. Slowing slumping into a fragile fragmented hell that welcomes me with open arms and sucks me into the buzom of Hades. 

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