Can he win the battle against the bottle, himself, and the police? |
This poem comes mostly as an observation of someone's life. All this upheaval is making me shake. The stress increases and raises the stake. I need to escape! I'm right on the brink! Bloody Hell! When can I get my next drink? I can't let myself run out again. I stop at the store for more booze and then I can't make it out of the parking lot. I open it and take another shot. My quivering hands begin to subside, and then I'm in for a cloud-kissing ride. There's no telling where I'll end up this time. Will I go home ? Will I commit a crime? It doesn't matter to me anymore as long as my best friend's on the floor, waiting for me when I need a drink; a reflexive response, I don't even think. My people say that I'm a sitting duck, that alcohol's behind all my bad luck. But they don't understand. This is my creed: To get through the day, its something I need. The angel of death lurks beyond my door. That bottle's empty, have to get some more. I swerve into the store and demand a case. The clerk says nothing as she stares at my face. She sees the cop car and the black clouds loom, but I'm mindless of the impending doom. I crank the truck and merge onto the road. I see blue lights flash but the spirits flowed. There's no way I'm getting a DUI. I can outrun him. I just have to fly. Ninety miles an hour over gravel land. All of a sudden, I lose my command. Roll after roll then it comes to a crash. The truck cab is now full of glass and trash. Sirens scream! There are voices of strife! Helicopter noise, The Jaws of Life! I fade into darkness and then see light. The colors are pretty, beautifully bright. Then, I'm snatched up by a figure of gloom and taken into a shadowy room. I look around at the fiery walls, and see lavish amounts of alcohol. This isn't so bad, this hand I've been dealt. I reach for a drink and the bottles melt. They're out of grasp, no matter how I try. The aching inside is making me cry. Then I think back to that one time when they came to share a message of hope from AA. If only I had listened to what they said, alcohol wouldn't be the reason I'm dead. 50 Lines |