At one point
I thought
I could drink myself into oblivion,
kill myself
one shot at a time.
Whiskey
was the journey,
intoxication
the destination.
Alcohol
like blood
coursed through my pain,
fed it, nurtured it,
orphan child
held by a dispassionate nun.
I learned to live
with the knowledge that pain,
like death, was inevitable
well beyond my control
only to be quelled
never cured.
Drunkenness however
was completely in my control.
A roaring lion on a leash,
a raging fire safely
warming my house of straw.
SMG
From "Another Hotel Room"
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3 comments:
This hits me on every level. Fantastic write.
So many people use alcohol to try to anesthetize their pain. Very real and raw.
I like the three lines the best.
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