A poem about alcoholism

Our eyes meet across the street

My heart, it flutters, my knees grow weak

Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!

I’ve got to drink, I’ve got to guzzle

My head is spinning, my mind’s a muddle

I spy that bottle of Bristol Cream

And, once again, I’m in a dream

Down it goes, my one true pleasure

I’ll down it in one or at my leisure

My lips, they touch the cold, cold glass

And with the craving, the pain has passed

If only my wife could see me now!

How she would frown, the daft old cow!

With “get me this” and “don’t do that”

She’d tan my hide at the drop of a hat

But she ain’t here to push me about

Just me, the jukebox and a glass of stout

Another swift chaser of vodka and orange

To round off my night of drink-sodden binge

“What’s your poison, Sir, whisky or gin?”

Not that it matters, the state I’m in

The nonsense I talk hides an addict’s frown

My tears of laughter the tears of a clown

But in the meantime, here’s a swift half

To forget the future and drink to the past

To hair of the dog that bit me twice

To pubs and bars where my one true vice

Still beckons me forth and holds my gaze

As I drown myself in a liquor-fuelled daze

Don’t remember much, can’t seem to think

But what do I care? Let’s drink! Drink! Drink!

– The Spideron, 1998

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