Damage Done
the constant
crack of cans
opening
each one
thrown out
the back door
a collection
to crush
on a concrete floor
empty cases
of silver bullets
and then it begins
…
in the glassy eye
slurred speech
wobbled walk
spitting on the floor
spewing vile and hate
evil raging on a red face
things escalate
the feeling of doom descends …
everywhere
monsters are made
at the bottom of beer
cans
and hard liquor
bottles
alcoholics have no
recollection
of the destruction
but the child
in the corner
cannot forget
no matter how hard
they try
they cannot
forget
TL