for poetry contest:
Alcohol is my love, my passion, my hobby.
I´m looking above, getting a ration, I´m gonna vomit.
I fall on my knee.
I´m puking straight out.
And what do I see?
A black looking cloud.
My legs are shaking, can´t move just well.
The vomits are leaking like water from well.
I can´t stand it, no more, please don´t.
But my stomach keeps throwing, no ending, no stop.
When I finish, my friend helps me up.
And he said “Let´s walk in the park.”
The path was long and I was far from sober.
He told me “Don´t give up! It´s far from over.”
It was raining and I felt like covered in gum.
And my friend told me “Here´s a bottle of rum.”
I drunk it with cola, the best drink I had.
But no matter what, it was stuck in my head.
“How much more booze do you have?”
“Enough to stop your sadness and wrath.”
Then he pulled a bottle, I felt little risky.
Soon I realised, it´s a bottle of whisky.
I have problems with my living.
But they disappear when I´m drinking.
I pour the whisky, then the vodka.
Getting so wasted right now.
I feel so frisky I moo like a cow.
I don´t get it,
I don´t care,
But we´ll make it.
I just swear.
We finish the whisky, I´m grasping for gin.
The rate of toxicity rise under my skin.
I fill my belly with the liquid happiness,
feeling better in that very moment.
Forgetting the feeling of tortured unluckiness
and the pain of eternal torment.
The war in my heart is never ending.
With booze the feelings just keep fading.
He tells me “Keep drinking my friend.”
And I knew, it´s comming to the end.
It keeps me happy and it makes me bad.
After some time I woke in my bed.
