in the cupboard sits my bottle
like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers.
I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony,
sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere,
the phone rings gamboling its sound
against the odds of the crooked sea;
I drink deeply and evenly now,
I drink to paradise
and death
and the lie of love.
My beerdrunk soul is sadder than all the dead christmas trees of the world.
Getting drunk was good. I decided that I would always like getting drunk. It took away the obvious and maybe if you could get away from the obvious often enough, you wouldn’t become obvious yourself.
Drinking is another way of thinking, another way of living. It gives you two lives instead of one.
I hid in bars, because I didn’t want to hide in factories.
I went to the worst of bars hoping to get killed but all I could do was to get drunk again.
stay with the beer.
beer is continuous blood.
a continuous lover.
I still have a little whiskey left and therefore a chance.
Chris George, providing reliable PR counsel and effective advocacy. Need a go-to writer or experienced communicator? 613-983-0801 @ CG&A COMMUNICATIONS.
