Quenched

September 17, 2017

It was in
A dark bar
Not unlike this
That at
The tender age
Of fifteen
I clambered
Into the stool
With a peach fuzz beard
And a dumb smile
Ordered a drink
That’d lead
To countless more
Until this last one
As I’ll never have more.

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Once more

April 22, 2017

Once you fall
Into the rabbit hole
It gets harder
And harder
To resurface.
Each time down
You forget the ground
And see fortune fade away.
When you get out
Reality is doubt
No longer solid and true.
So down again
You travel quick
Finding what is right.
Back on ground
Those who are sound
Worry and fret about you.
But in you go
Pretend you don’t know
You’ve hurt those that you love.
The hole is calling
Like the grave diggers song
Youth shall end here.

Forgetting you

December 13, 2016

A forgotten night
A forgotten plan
A missed opportunity
To play your hand

A passionate folly
A passionate ploy
A lost chance
To self destroy

A hateful reminder
A hateful regret
A wish for me
To simply forget

Alcohol

September 25, 2016

When I was young
I used to think
What was wrong
With those who drink
As I aged
I understood
When it’s tough
It feels so good
But as I got old
I realized
It hides the truth
In a web of lies

Magic

June 27, 2016

I stopped to think
Before I left
Was it right
Or was it theft
To take the heart
And hold it.

Sometimes I forget
To stop and think
When mind is blurry
From the drink
Reason is oft
Forgotten.

In the end we must stop
Break the cycle to fix
What’s wrong
In life there isn’t just tricks
But also the magic
Of living.

Human Thought

March 2, 2015

There is one drug
More addictive
Than anything
You could ingest.

It seeps its way
Into your soul
And makes it crave
And want more

When it runs low
You feel like death
Is the only way
To be okay again

Then at your low
It seeps in again
Hearts race
Blood rushes

As that addictive
Substance seeps in
Illuminating everything
The world is yours again

In the wee hours
You lay awake
And oh you ache
For she isn’t there

The cycle starts
Again
And again
And again.

Master Fly

November 24, 2014

As the door opens
And the cold draft passes
As the man
With the thick beard
And rough face
Grabs a stool next to mine
And kicks up his feet
On the old and tarnished brass rail.
As I sit there and hear him
Order the usual jack and a pint
His type always does
I realize my friend
The bar stool prophet
Is no where to be found
And as I look over
At the mirror behind the bar
Sponsored by wild turkey
Or some other terrible brand
I see him smiling back at me
He raises his glass
As I do too
In a silent toast
To the pupil
Becoming
The master.