Poison

Poison

Why do you make me so crazy!?
You see I have seen perfection in a bottle
I have felt the tight strands of my insecurities unravel
With every sip of that golden nectar 
That makes my mind bend and head bobble

My friend, you are no friend at all

Wasting away days and nights thinking of you
Of my insatiable need to taste the bitter bite
Of a toxin that was bread by the fermentation of life
Here I sit in this chair thinking to myself…
I could solve it all by drowning in a bottle of alcohol
I could throw away all my cares and swim in bliss
Forget my symptoms, forget my past, forget my loneliness 
But most of all forget that I am a child of God

But I was meant for more in this life than to be a slave
Fighting endlessly for something I need to save
My sanity…
My sanity my friends, is no laughing matter
It is not a trifle thing, and I have in the past lost everything

I will not bow down to a liquid that has me ensnared
Like a rabid dog chasing its own tail
Like a sullen tortoise trailing a wild hare 
Forever yearning for that sweet supplication
That unearthly surrender and caustic embrace…
…that mind numbing fervor that rips apart my soul.
That which leaves sunken eyes wet on a decaying face
I should know this by now…and yes I do know
That sobriety in it’s deepest form is an affront to death
I will acknowledge my weakness…my disease to all those who hear me now

I am a drunk

Sober for days now, but who’s counting?

I may be sick…but I am not useless,
I may be weak, but I am not alone
I am human, and as such I have needs

Why I fight to understand these stages of life over which I keep tripping
I’ll never quite understand…but this I know
God made me but a man, and I’m tired of living on this island
I’m tired of searching for a mate
I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who can see
The ghosts of this world flying past my periphery
I have so much love to give, but sadly I cannot speak

All I can do is hide behind the words in my poetry
And hope that one day these scars will heal
And maybe teach others not to turn down in shame
When words of piety and forgiveness speak to them
In such a way that they might reach out a hand
When they are at their lowest point
Maybe then limp in their weak blindness 
Finding the hand of a friend
Reaching out to bring them back from the sickness
From the poison…that binds us.

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012