Friday 4/07/2006 11:10:00 PM

Spread my fingers. Gripping the void. It's easy to lose. Just try. It's not hard being broken until you see someone who's whole.

Sermon satisfied.

Pain my umbilical cord.

Friends are like a mirror. Lovers even moreso. That's why it's so hard to look at them.

Close my eyes. Imagine the scissors. Blades licking each other until everything is in pieces.

All connections severed.

Myself no longer there.

Nothing left except the ether still displaced by my former silhouette.

They can see the bottle in my hand, but not what's inside of it. The hours. All the hours dying. Me, hoping that they would..

My heart's silent gasp. The statue is hollow. The monument a fraud.

They see the bottle. The thickening tide. But they can't see inside it. The darkness it once parted coming back together.

They think I'm emptying. Being overtaken by. They don't see the darkness in me filling it.

Myself no longer there.

3 comments:
AnonymousT said...

If you could, would you stop drinking? Do you have any desire to stop? I used to be so much like you, and in some ways I probably still am like you, only I'm a sober version now. Some days I'd like to go back, but I know I'd never be able to get back here again.

alcoholic poet said...

i think that i could stop if i wanted to, but no, at this point just don't feel the desire. don't know if i ever will. never have been a fan of recovery.

but that's cool for you. that you got sober. if that's what you wanted.

are you just an alcoholic or also an alcoholic poet?

AnonymousT said...

I'm not sure it's what I wanted, but my liver made the choice for me.

And yes, I am a poet, or so they tell me.

I love your stuff.



| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.