Sad days lie in wait
It's on those days that I create
A symphony of "what ifs" inside my mind
Like time can be turned back as easy
As it is on the watch on my wrist

Calculations of consequences come easy
When those consequences have been had
Past decisions determined to be detrimental
But they do not define who I am

Depression hits like bird **** on my shoulder
Random and a nuisance
Much like the burden of my drinking
Thinking things would change with the change
I spent on the Dark Eyes staring back at me

Connection to my feelings turned to self-reflection
Work that seemed pointless now brings satisfaction
Active participation helps me avoid temptation
Watching the seconds tick away deep in contemplation

I remember the little bottles
All lined up neatly on the floor next to me
Waiting to feel my hands around the cap
The little "crack" as the seal is broken

The room temperature liquid slowly emptied
Rushing down and giving warmth to my belly
False sense of numbness rising to my lips
Believing all the pain is gone

One after another, each little bottle giving it's life
The numbness turns to darkness...lights out
I awake to realize that nothing has changed
The pain I thought I chased away returns

The cycle repeats itself, pain grows stronger
Numbness is not easily attained, chased with more
Darkness is all I wish for, permanent like a sharpie
Sadness turns to rage, rage to shame

Fog sets all around my world
The darkness spreads, so much darkness
Shame turns to regret, regret to change
28 days cracking my skull to find the spark

The spark becomes an ember, glowing
Therapy and a hard look in the mirror provide the oxygen
It turns into a small flame, the light
The light pushes out the darkness

Fog rises up and becomes clouds on a sunny day
I see it all clearly now, life anew
The pain doesn't go away but is managed
Hard work, perseverance, honesty are my new friends

A Yukon Boy,
Becomes a Sober Man

He begs me to let him abuse himself
Until he realizes it ain’t fix itself

Bless.

He ain’t getting there yet
He ain’t letting me bet on a life together
He ain’t getting us set

Class!

Play your A-game on a lame day
Even if you feel taken for granted
You deserve your best self my darling
Even if he doesn’t.

That tight grab you feel in your heart when he turns into
a no man
He swears on his ***** to snooze you as well

Grab that grabs your heart
Let it be your saver
Give it a tight handshake
Pretend you are making it
Present your best face outfit
Play it baby play hard
Until your heart grows out of it.

Fresh

Here we go again.

Eyes are bloodshot staring at the alcoholic LEDs,
It would be impossible to rip them off of
The angelic glaze slathered on the screen.
Tears streaming on a face fixed for a permanent smile.
Can’t scream, not s’pposed to.
The eyes are taking in sips of wood alcohol
Littered with food coloring to make it seem like bourbon.
They know it’s not,
The burns all the same.
Eyes sleepless and fried while the screen fries itself.
Maybe it's time to shut them

A reading from the book of Ashlyn, daughter of Mark.

In the name of my Father
(Who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name):
Ritual calls a lighter to a cigarette
It pulls the calloused flesh of its thumb over the metal striker
Igniting the air it breathes, exciting a dull glow
A puff of recognition lays down on the exhale
Soon there will be ashes. It settles like smoke.

When the smoke settles
The Room is void.
The walls move in and
Swallow him holy, moving in
Relentless rythmic contraction
A chorus of prayer, annointing the sick
Let us paint crosses in the ashtray.

"Ahhhhh-men."

coughing

In the name of the daughter:
He tries to avoid the ritual,
But the chants persist
He is a sinner.
Only blood can cleanse him
He partakes

May the Spirit be with you.
"And also with you."
We lift our glasses to the Lord.
"It is right to give Him thanks and praise."

The room goes silent.
Observation of prayer.

In the name of the Holy Spirit:
The blood of Christ compels a drink
The spirit makes my father new
He is no longer man.
Now, he is exorcised by the spirit.
Praise be to God in his slurred speech
And peace to this person on earth
His sunken eyes. His swollen belly.
God, is he your Mary?
Is this your beautiful creation? Your masterful plan?
God, am I your son? I think so.
I stretched my arms out to you.
It seems you left me hanging.
You, the only father who has ever forsaken me. Why?

he went to sleep thirty minutes ago
and thats ok
but the silence that isn't silence seeps into my brain
and corrupts the veins that are already black with self hatred
people are sick of me and that's ok,
I dance with the alcoholics, I can't be trusted
I am desperately sad and no one can save me
and thats ok, thats ok.

It's ok.

Live life by the bottle
Let it lead you to hell
You can drink if you need a model
But you have to become a shell

I’ve been drinking like I’m a prince about to be king
Sneaking bottle after bottle without (quite yet) regret
Take swig after swig with grim
Trying so desperately to forget

The regret comes later
When the only thing I’ve forgotten is who I am
I’ve started to become the manipulator
And that’s never been my jam

The only thing I can say
Is I’m broke without pay
And now I talk with a sway
I’m telling you, I’m not the alcoholic you see today