I never thought,
That one of,
if not the best,
Feelings in the world,
Would be looking at you,
And feeling absolutely nothing.

Every morning the sun rises.
Every night the moon appears,
along with the drunken slur.
The stumble in your step.
The cloudy glaze in your eyes.
The heavy smell of alcohol on your clothes.
The mood swings that pull you side to side.
Flushed, red cheeks.
Screaming voices.
Slapping hands on skin.

I ask that small, feeble question.
*'Are you a drunk?'

I want to inspire people
I want someone to look at me and say
"because of you i didn't give up"

I play guitar unpolished
red rust of my finger tips, bleeding
no school for this, still I wish
I'd somehow gone or sang with
my mouth unbound and loud
sang like a deep well of bells
that rang each day and I had come to listen.