Bad moon rising part two

Well it’s five o’clock in the morning and already I am up and about. It was a fitful night’s sleep, but the sun is up and the long nocturnal hours of darkness have slipped off their cloak of depression and receded to the other side of the world, no doubt to haunt some other lost soul who has his own story of horror to tell.

I have taken my vitals and my meds to get through the day. Breakfast is light, a slice of hot buttered toast and a glass of cold vegetable juice. It’s enough to fire up the motor and get me through at least until mid morning when I shall need to take a break. I take a quick hot shower just to freshen up and I’m ready to go, to go to the tale of horror that befell me and my family, to relive our battle with an external force running havoc through our lives, determined to destroy us all.

I sit at my desk and work like a man possessed by demons, and indeed that is exactly how I am, a broken man possessed by demons raking over his pain filled past. Suddenly I sense the heavy presence of the muse and feel inspired. I stop typing this sorry tale to scribble on a scrap of paper. Something deep within me was reaching down through the layers of my past and suddenly arrived at a happy place.

And every now and then, when I’m alone

I look around my world, everything I own.