Night of the Richard

Woken again from a listless sleep,
Drenched in sweat, partner snoring. Wide awake.
Night after night I wake and I groan and
I scream to myself to ignore the pain
But I can't.

Something resides deep inside but I don't know
How to go about cleaving it from my chest.
Nightmares: night scares, old women, Detox,
Dying dragons, strictures scraping at my soul.

The thoughts drift as I lift the bottle to my
Parched lips. Parched from the booze.
Richard, heal thyself. Sober no more.
Now the war me. Battle time.

Still no sleep.

This week's (and I use the term loosely) prize is an all expenses paid trip to the best place on Earth! 

Back By Popular Demand!

Well, back.
After popular demand.
To stop.

Hurrah!

More codswallop to follow, although hoping some of this may be an improvement on the trite trash I wrote as a trite trashy teen.

Onwards, and, hopefully, upwards!

The wonderful *cough* prizes that I used to give out will of course *cough* be given out for future correct guesses!