Empties

Empty liquor bottles gather dust
sitting on the floor.
Soldiers without purpose
Life's blood drained and gone
So why do they remain
A silent testament
to night's of half-bred thoughts
and delusions
to cauterize the weight
of each day that had passed
Buried above ground
until they are tossed into
a heap and their bodies
shatter into shards

Bored of Drink

I feel as though I have grown bored of drinking.
There. I have said it. So what? What does that
mean to me now that it has been said? I think
that I must chart a course now without it this
regular crutch of mine. It still feels good and
pleasurable but it just doesn't feel the same.
I drink, I get drunk, I eat too much bad food
late at night. The pattern is the same and it
feels far too predictable to me. It has no more
surprises for me and that is fine. I suppose I'll
start by not drinking today or most of this week.
I might drink on Sunday but even that is a maybe
at the moment. I honestly prefer waking up with
out feeling like my body is recovering for some
sort of bender. My weight and appetite will be
much easier to manage without this constant
influx of drink. It'll also clear my head and focus
my thoughts as I prepare to return to the ashram
once more. I have to remember the promise I
made to my grandmother and myself for the
next time I return to Mexico. It'll help me get
closer to the goal and ideal. Abstaining from
alcohol won't solve all my problems but it'll
help me gain a specific clarity which will be
of great help. Change can be as simple as one
just saying no and making small steps one day
at a time. The path can be difficult but it can
be traversed. I say this to myself to remember
as I walk forward and try to build something
better for myself once more.

Unwinding the Thread from the Spool

The price of gas goes up and down
while alcohol is affordable enough
to keep you just behind the line of insanity.

Truth does not need a pretty image
or metaphor to convey it's message.

Truth is blunt like a sledgehammer
breaking bricks into bits.

The road drives me numb and mad
in alternating measure.

A young man pulled out his hand
like a gun and pointed at me

and I was furious. Not at the threat
of violence and death

but at the demands of our ill times
on us all

and the prospect of my future
becoming a severed branch.

I'm drinking alone because
I need this meditation

even if the methodology is flawed.
I would be with you tonight

if only we were not so far apart
you and I.

I don't wish to die
but I need to prove to myself

the will to live and smash
apart the lingering grasp

of my self-doubt.

Late Night Run

I saw God leave the liquor store last night,

it was one-thirty in the morning.

The Almighty seemed a little tired,

but who isn't at that hour?


His left hand was wrapped around

the handle of a bottle in a brown

paper bag. I wondered

what he had picked up?


A fifth of Whiskey?

Gin perhaps?

Maybe some Vodka?

Or a biblical favorite, some wine.


It took him a moment to find

the right key for the door.

He slumped in and slammed

it close. The engine sputtered.


He was on his way, but to where?

Where does God need to be

at one-thirty in the morning?

Theologians would say it's a mystery.