Bench. Chair. • •
Carrying on everyday with mundane tasks.
The fringes of life’s simplicity carries along the beaten path.
The vices, the vices, they cannot leave me.
Another one. Last one. Something else.
They attack me during the night hours. I can feel myself slipping. I don’t want to fall.
Not another one.
But it lurks behind me.
In the shadows, waiting.
Until I can no longer.