I write so I don’t
drink as much. Instead
I chase my darker days,
like a baying hound
calling his blood lusts
from ridge tops in the dark
finally trapping the feral beasts
in trees or dry gullies,
to ask violent questions
of answers I do not want,
rather than drowning myself
like a desperate rat,
in pity and bad bourbon.
(August 16, 2014)
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