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, an orphan child
held by a dispassionate nun.
intoxication the destination.
Alcohol, like blood
coursed through my pain,
fed it, nurtured it, an 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
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"
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"
Posts
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.
Post a Comment