I float on gin soaked nightmares Yoked to the liquor like a babe to a bottle Coaxed to sleep slowly, dosed on 70% proof and with it the night's terror starts.
Gin addled, lying in sweat soaked sheets Memories raise their heads above the parapet These memories coaxed from their corners Coerced by addiction.
My addiction I saw as a benediction A positive to all the negative. But my submission was not conviction, it was hell and condemnation.
Now, my nightmares torment me, like purgatory, no rest for the wicked, the fallen, the flotsam and detritus of life. Stricken I can only question....
What's it like to drift off quietly? Not to wake with a scream trapped in your throat? To count sheep instead of the faces of the long dead? To slumber in peace, cloaked in love?
If you can answer these questions, please let me know. Pop a note in bottle and give it a throw. If it washes up I'll let you know.