****** my cheddar
Give it a squeeze
Taste is bitter
On my knees

Blow the chunks
In huge hunks
Oil it
In the toilet

The porcelain
feels cool
On my face

Not done with this race

Round two
Time to spew
Do not try
heave it dry

No one there
To lift my hair
I don't care
Life's not fair

Trobbing pain
In my brain
Yes I'm sane
Sugar cane

One more round
Chug it down
I can drive
Won't survive

Watch the news
Drowned in *****
Now you see me
Now you see me

I sleep at my mother's
My wife has repossessed
The bed and my neighbour
Does the plumbing etc.....

It became the norm;
it didn't change overnight
but slowly and surely,
it became a habit.

A night out drinking
became drinking in alone
and a twisted tea
turned into half a bottle of *****.

No one noticed how bad it got,
that alcohol was missing
and I was constantly hungover
healing that with more alcohol.

I woke up
not able to handle my thoughts
not wanting to see the chaos
I created called my life.

Going out to drink with friends
became a weekly tradition
but drinking alone
became a nightly tradition.

Sneaking juice and ***
or Jack and Coke
whatever I could get my hands on really
just to calm my head.

To numb the thoughts
and chaos
that I made
to shut out the world.

A few nights out
with excuses of parties
became mixed
with nights alone in my room.

Doing shots
chugging mixed drinks
praying I wouldn't get sick
but knowing I would.

Just for those few hours
of nothing,
the numbness
of shutting my brain off.

Blacking out was rare
so I was never ready when it happened
always wondering
what happened in those hours lost.

Not knowing how to stop
becoming irritable without it
seeing the signs of addiction
not recognizing myself in the mirror.

Knowing I had to stop
and wanting to stop
were two different things
until she said those horrible words.

I cleaned up my act
pouring the hidden bottles down the sink
those words working better
than cold water to the face.

Breathe,
Please for the sake of your heart.
Stop yelling!
Stop digging your grave deeper.
He wouldn’t hear, even if I spoke louder than his anger.
The frustration is building.
His fear, his brokenness.

A man tortured by an illness
A life not lived,
a person not changed.
From the bottle
to the cigarette
to the stabilizer
Fifteen year chip and he’s still the same

A woman helpless to helping him
“What did I do she always asks?”
As if she is to blame for his outbursts
his anger that covers his depression and regret
She’s not a victim, she has a family that supports her
If she could find the strength after thirty years
Married under a church and steeple, for best or for worst
Well what about her best? her Worst?
What about his decaying health?

Someone just walk away
Is there anything worth saving?
Besides themselves?

Sitting in a darkened bar
Ten dead soldiers in a row
My bladder was now screaming
It's time for you to go

I ordered up another drink
Left my seat, went down the hall
And on my way back to the bar
I saw a number on the wall

Help...it said, is close, close by
It's nearer than you think
Call, the number that you see
Before you order your next drink

I thought, it doesn't make much sense
I've got my life under control
I haven't bottomed out quite yet
I'm only half way down the hole

Four more drinks and then again
I stumbled down the hall
And coming back, I once more read
The notice on the wall

Help...it said, is close, close by
It's nearer than you think
Call, the number that you see
Before you order your next drink

I put a dime into the payphone
I thought I'd give it one good try
Before I hit rock bottom
I'd call them up or else I'd die

A friendly voice responded
"out of service...try again"
I laughed at this short message
Then I tried it once again

I checked the number on the notice
Dialed it, and then I heard
the message "out of service"
I laughed at every word

It seems that "out of service"
Was a title I should hold
After all I was a soldier
Out of work, and drunk, and cold

Those three words, they described me
"Out of service" , right bang on
No one cared that I was falling
Who would notice when I'm gone?

I went back to my barstool
Downed my drink and got one more
I thought, I'd better have another
Before I stumbled out the door

Before I went, I ventured
To the jukebox, checked for change
The sign said "out of service"
I thought that that was strange

Twice now, "out of service"
In a message sent to me
Was I truly worth redemption
A hopeless case for all to see

I figured that tomorrow
If I found I woke up dead
"out of service" were the last words
That were emblazoned in my head

I went back to the barkeep
Ordered one more for the road
Then I downed another soldier
"out of service" number stowed

I'd laugh on this tomorrow
If I made it through this night
I was truly "out of service"
I need help to find the light.