Good Times

Pain overrides common sense, forcing me to take unnecessary action

partaking in vices beyond reasoning;

if only it were so easy to lose yourself permanently in the void.

I’m the tyrant, I’m the monster that creeps in every thought

Banish me, if only temporarily, through self-destruction disguised as blowing off steam

As the kidneys strain and knuckles bleed from the stress that drips from burdened veins.

Love to hate me, even if it’s all the same, but blame me for every failure in judgement

Or red dye that floats in water as shame regurgitates from the recesses of the soul;

It’s all the same, forgotten in blacked out ink tarnishing paper trails like memories long past.

Maybe if I forget enough, my body will refuse to wake,

abandoning its creator in desperation for the festering pit it had devolved into over years of unrequited abuse.

 

Author’s Words for Thought

“I felt empty and sad for years, and for a long, long time, alcohol worked. I’d drink, and all the sadness would go away. Not only did the sadness go away, but I was fantastic. I was beautiful, funny, I had a great figure, and I could do math. But at some point, the booze stopped working. That’s when drinking started sucking. Every time I drank, I could feel pieces of me leaving. I continued to drink until there was nothing left. Just emptiness.” -Dina Kucera

Leave a Reply