Category "Poems"

February 16, 2005

Drunk Man's Words...


How can it seem so simple,
Living that is.

People do it everyday,
Every hour,
Every minute.

They never think,
How simple it is,
Until itís not anymore,

How can it seem so simple,
Living that is.

People do it everyday,
Every hour,
Every minute.

They never think,
How simple it is,
Until itís not anymore,

Until the only way you can escape,
Is by being someone else.

So you drink a little,
And smoke a little,
And it numbs you.

But soon being numb isnít enough,
So you drink a little more,
Smoke a little more.

And soon you donít think,
Not because you donít want to,
But because you canít.

Your body is no longer yours,
You sway because you have to,
The world is spinning,
And you must spin with it.

And for awhile it all seems okay,
Everything is easy.

What you want,
you can have,
And what once was confusing,
Suddenly seems clear as glass.

You know what you want,
And for that time you have it,
Itís yours and there are no consequences.

But then,
As all things tend to do,
The high ends.

If youíre lucky,
You end up right back where you were,
If youíre not,
Your life just got that much harder.

So you think for awhile,
But it seems so hard.

Suddenly you care,
Not about yourself,
But about him,
About her.

It doesnít matter how good it felt,
How tightly you held to one another,
How you wished to stay there forever

The words,
The promises,
become shallow,
As you realize the state in which they were uttered.

And itís too hard all over again.

So you pick up that shot glass,
Fill it to the top,
And cringe as the sharp liquid,
Runs down your throat.

It burns beautifully,
Because you know that soon,
it wonít be so hard.

The joint is passed your way,
You breathe in deeply,
Begging the smoke to set you free,
Make it a little easier still.

And finally youíre back,
Things are easy again,
Youíre body is free,
To do what your mind told it not to,
But your heart yearned for with each beat.

And itís good for awhile,
Until you know,
Deep down,
Thatís its not an answer,
Not a fix.

You medicate to forget,
To push it all away,
But you canít do it forever,
Eventually you have to deal.

You have to choose a path,
There can be no turning back,
No second guessing,
It has to end one-way or the other.

So you think,
Remember,
Wonder a million ďwhat ifĒ s,
But no answers come.

Itís not easy,
These things never are,
Just a word of advice,
From one friend to the next-

If itís true what they say,
-A drunk manís words,
Are a sober mans thoughts-
Then perhaps we should,
In hard times,
When answers seem allusive,
And someoneís bound to get hurt,
Trust the drunk in all of us.

Posted by berg1511 at 9:56 PM | Poems