the moon whispers drunken secrets
in the middle of the night
in the middle of the rain
in the middle of my thoughts at
3 am
3  pm
it doesn't matter
you're the only spirit on my mind
you're the only spirit i want to lay in bed with at
3 am
at
3 pm
and stand upright with when theres nothing  else to do and the world is ending you're the only girl for me
you're the only medicine i need
and it's starting to make me alcoholic

I stumble as if intoxicated
But reek of agony instead.
Not even the strongest liquor
Could rinse you from my head.
While thinning the blood in my veins
My heart pounds to what you said.
Though I would rather you love me,
You would much rather be dead.

I had always frowned upon the thought of being drunk
But my God, I hated being sober
****** smirnoff was the key to falling asleep in the arms of my lover
The bitter taste of alcohol made me forget about you
I never knew the downers in alcohol could make so many memories
I was sloppy drunk with my friends laughing until the sun came up
And no I didnt want it to end
I couldn't find which direction I was supposed to go
And I didnt care
I just wanted to catch the sunrise in his beautiful eyes
And the joy in the laughter of my friends

The bottom of the glass is second only to the view of your face.

I went to pour out your bottle,
but found you had emptied it into your throat.

I wonder if that watered down ***** drowns out the taste of your daughter's empty "I love you's"

My father has a problem.
He listens to all this conspiracy,
whilst drinking a beer or 5 every night.
Instead of spending time with my mother and I.
I've started to dread family dinners as all they do is instil hate in me,
he talks about death and killing and yet knows nothing of me.
My dad doesn't remember my birthday most days,
this year he couldn't remember my mum's.
And I can't live in a house where one occupant stinks of *****.
Where a family slowly starts to break.
My father is an alcoholic,
but the only one who won't admit it is he.

As I put my drink on the night stand; promising myself that I am not going to do it.
I still do.
I push its head under, submerging its life in a lake of past joy,
irreplaceable happiness and love that will never be mine.
While it struggles, fighting for its life
I apply more force, ensuring it drowns today
Hopeful that its death is my elation tomorrow
So I take another sip.
It won't die! What if "IT"can't die Maya?
But everyone hates me for it, its stench is malignant, attitude repugnant,
it stands tall with a backbone made of arrogance
and it lies down and wrap itself cozily in a quilt made of guilt, regret, unspoken words and time I can't get back.
It is driving away the people I love.
And will assure that anyone I plan to love- never will be worthy.
So I take another sip, trying my best to drown it.