sobriety
the bane of creative souls
and so we drink
we drink hatred and death
we drink the evening news
and roil with anger
as ignorance tops the headlines
and a soft-spoken moment is relegated
to a closing thought
we drink the hurt of rape victims
the souls found in ashes
the madness found in alleyways
where the discarded ones strive to exist
on fumes of waste and unwanted toys
tossed into bins like deadweight
we drink our sordid existence
unchallenged but in the mirror
but on the pillow, but in our views
of self-distortion and questions never asked
until we are drunk with loathing, lust
and loss of all that once was
here we begin to expose the hidden
that is so obviously ignored but by the drunken few
who hold sobriety close, deep within
their creative souls