unclean hands

Now that the drink is gone, how do I deal
with the anger and pain that I'm starting to feel?
All these questions with answers that wont be revealed
untill the damage I've done to my mind starts to heal.
It's been almost three months, God I thought I was cured
until I saw her again, and I thought "how absurd is this?"
" Why do I feel like I'm falling apart?"
Will somebody tell me why it feels like my heart
was just ripped from my chest, and then torn into pieces?
I dont have an answer, I cant form a thesis.
The only thing I could see form in my mind
was a bottle of vodka, I needed to find
an escape, somehow leaving this bullshit behind.
Like a VCR suddenly stuck on rewind,
I was seeing the past; all the hurt, all the shame again,.
tasting her tears, I was left with the blame again.
Not knowing why I could suddenly feel again.
Under the wheel again, damn, this is real again.
How many times will I run from my past
to the bottle, to fall right back down on my ass again.
Can't this be over? I thought I was free,
yet the Five o'clock vodka is still haunting me.
I could go to a meeting, sit down at a table,
tell everyone how I still feel I'm unable
to let go, and sure, it helps sharing my pain;
but their smiles and their laughter just drives me insane.
Yes, I want what they have, but I dont understand
how they've washed all the blood and the dirt from their hands.
Now I'm hating myself as I'm walking away,
and I'm wishing again that I'd learned how to pray.
Even so, I probably wouldnt know what to say.
Jesus Christ, I just dont want to get drunk today.

I sit at this keyboard and stare at this screen,
at these words being typed by these hands, still unclean.
Yet, when pencil meets paper, the doors open wide,
shedding light on the skeletons I keep inside.
And I've found how it helps to unveil my afflictions,
these words are the cage that contains my addiction..