you can't hold them,

even when they need it,

they don't all cry for help,

even when it's needed.

poked full of holes,

like a sun set in clouds,

sidewalk shop signs say:

Sobriety Not Allowed;

besides myself in a park bench,

i walk through a door,

then it looks like a train,

and it melts into rehab,

but i'm staring at a sink,

where i'm draining away,

loved ones calling names,

but i can't remember the day.

the more that i drink,

the closer you're here,

the better i feel,

if i could be there.

the more that i drink,

the less that is there,

the better i feel,

i don't want to hear.

the more that i drink,

the less they will know,

the better i'll feel,

the less i am here.

the more that i drink,

the less i could care,

the more that i bear,

the less you are here,

but i'll try to be here.

pulled close to uncomfortable,

but neglect the brain fanfare in quiet,

while i can't quite get over you;

survivor's guilt won't sell,

pretty apparitions keep you here,

until you see a white wall,

where a loved one was there.

seabound and sober,

stuck at the bottom,

through retching all the dizziness;

it was all to feel fine,

but i still wish i was fine.

when you Fall,

i'm the Jump,

hold on and let go,

you're better than none.

i don't mind that you left,

i don't mind where i am,

i just hate what i do,

to get over the end.