Back to the Bottle…the cycle of futility
Futility…
A wry smile from a dry mouth,
in whisky haze with squinted eyes,
holding up the bar, no surprise,
elbows in forced equilibrium.
The bottle squeezed,
the last drop fallen, as if lights out,
and a head, no longer bearing weight,
slumps into oblivion, the final count.
Like furniture, no-one notices,
his place so common place, forgotten,
and what dreams he holds,
what’s left to be told, in darkness.
He sleeps, dead drunk,
the cold darkness embraces,
so memories behind locked doors,
stay silent in his deep dark places.
And when at midnight,
the bar needs vacating,
he nestles in an stone faced alley,
none the wiser.
Until day and warmth invade his silence,
he’ll imbue the nothingness,
and then, stricken by need,
crawl back to the bottle,
his own self administered violence,
the punishment he believes is due, for his failure.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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Such a waste of life this unfortunate choice is. Very well written, Tony.
Thanks Phyllis, yes I agree alcoholism is such a devastating affliction, to those stricken and their families. Cheers!
you’ve really drawn out the unfortunate negative side of this disease Tony
Tony, I meant to say ‘disease’, not ‘choice’. Sorry about that. I noticed my error when I saw Ralph’s comment.
I know alcoholism is an inherited disease and is very difficult to overcome. It takes a lot of strength and understanding by the whole family to overcome it.