The secret drinker stays up at night,
Watching those dark programs,
On a blank screen of a turned off television.

The secret drinker listens,
To the ticking of the mantle clock,
As it times life away.  

The secret drinker measures the numbness of the pain,
By the counting of the bottles,gills , half ones,
Until it all seems sane.

The secret drinker,
Lifts the last drink.
Holds the liquid to the light,
And dies in life the same way of many a cocktail.