‘….So drink, drink, drink and be ill tonight…’
Most likely until I’m sick.
You’d have thought,
That I’d had enough of this.
All is quiet
All is still
For that glass of wine
And the extra pill
Eat, drink and be merry.
Or just drink.
I know I am.
I fear I’ve
had one too
many a drink
is not the
time my story
But I think
I had a
much or how
I got home,
For that ship,
What was I saying?
What was I..?
Ach, don’t mind me,
all of my
for helping me
To see all the things
I struggle to see
For making me laugh
and smile again
For allowing me to feel the sun
and forget about the rain
It’s so peaceful here.
If only the incessant chatter in my head would quieten down,
I might just be able to enjoy it.
The warmth of the sun on your face,
The anticipation of a road trip with friends,
The promise of tall tales around the campfire.
It’s the little things that bring the most joy.
The darker nights are drawing in,
not least those in my heart.
I should stop drinking bathtub gin,
now that would be a start.
It doesn’t matter where in the world you go.
How beautiful the country you visit,
How fascinating the people you meet,
How much booze you drink.
You can’t run away from your thoughts.
You might have a different view from your window but your soul will remain as black as the night sky and, beneath it all, you’ll still be the same fuck up you always were.
Travel solves nothing.
You can take a tablet to halt a head ache.
You can eat a sandwich to settle a queasy stomach.
You can sleep a while to revive your weary bones.
But the self loathing?
That shit lingers on inside your head for days. And there’s nothing you can do to help that.
God, hangovers are awful.
I hope I find the answers I’m looking for at the bottom of this pint glass.
Otherwise putting make up on to leave the house tonight was a waste of time…