Monthly Archives: January 2019

A bitter taste lingers in my mouth,

The taste of vile repulsion,

Years of shame, self-hatred,

Built on acts so irresponsible,

So impulsive, reckless,

No regard for any person

though each one is irrespective

in the throes of manic self-absorption.

It is there, like Midas’ gold,

Glinting in seduction,

Reaching out to grasp

my materialistically mesmerised

collapse of teetering sanity.

My only limitation being

The ability to limit

my recklessness,

To abandon the wisdom

 of abstention.

The creditors’ letters sit in a pile,

Like teachers waiting to scold

And perhaps to chastise,

with a whack of the punitive cane.

Every word burns a scar

Into my defeated, guilty self,

Etched upon my self esteem

Like a deep, raw, acrid wound.

And yet again,

My soul mourns its own stupidity.

© Sarah Louise Drury 2019

We huddle,

wingless moths,

Around the single light source,

Plunged into a world

Of yesteryear,

Where looming shadows

Cast by candles,

Form an atmosphere,

Suspense and mystery,

The faces of the people

Draped in various robes

Of bygone days

are modelled by the light

Into wax figures


Technologically deprived,

Our bodies twitch,

Our minds

Devoid of screens

And stimuli,


Forced adjustments

Thrust upon our

Tech addiction,


Munching on cold turkey,

Choking on the bitter taste

Of death.

© Sarah Louise Drury 2019

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