By John W

Drawn in the Sand
A spent wave obliterating
The once fine border
Until the water recedes
Revealing…The Line, resolute!

Hell is a relative state
Here today, gone tomorrow, for eternity
Never leaving me alone
Always here, Hell is alone
Worse, when Hell is with you

Or is Hell a Line?
My Line, not Yours
Waiting beneath my almost spent wave
Waiting resolute, waiting to spring
Anew, fresh and distinct

Unavoidable, A Line one cannot
Walk around or jump over,
Fueled by Ego, driven by Fear, tempered by Drink,
Hardened by Life, impervious to emotion
The Line is somewhere, waiting….waiting

Like a siren, it beckons to me
It lures me for a sucker punch
My Line, not yours, is waiting, calling me
Come to It I can, Come to It I will
Come to It I must…It calls to me, calls to me…

Can I survive It, this Bottom, this time?
Have I crossed The Line?
Have I stepped too far…
Have I crashed too hard…
This time does only Death await me?

My time has come,
My choice is at hand
My time has come,
No longer can I go without change,
For only despair, only darkness awaits.

A willingness to change
Bespeaks hope
Still today I cannot help but cross The Line…
NO! Today I will not cross..
The Line…

Today, with help, I choose to say “No”!
Today, with help, I see My Line, not yours
Today, with help, I choose to stay sober.
Today, with help, just for today, I won’t pick up.
Today, with help, will be a lifetime of tomorrows.


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