You draw me in with false promises, and forever let me down
You promise escape & happiness, but it just ends in a frown
Not from me of course, as I’m laid here snoozing
A constant disappointment I feel, so I carry on the boozing.

What am I running from? Anesthetised I lay
And coast through each and every hour, of the following day.
Your everywhere I look! Buses, billboards, even litter
Trying to draw us in with your intoxicating glitter.

Your so ****** acceptable, I’m a FREAK if I abstain
“Oh goo on kid, one waint hurt, stop being a chuffin pain”
BUT what they fail to understand, is at 1 it does not stop!
The moment that sip will pass my lips, I’m craving the next drop.
Or 2 or 3 or “**** this ****, I’m off to the bottle shop”
In fear my stash will not suffice my seeming desire to flop.

Fast forward half an hour, and here I am again
Snoring like a pig, much to the families disdain
Iphone started, camera rolling, my daughter hits record
She watches Daddy comatosed, her memory stamped APPALLED!

“No goodnight kiss, no cuddles tight, no tickles once again”
Her hero lays before her, vest adorned with red wine stains
“What’s wrong with me?” she wonders “why’s he chose wine over me?
And my sis & mummy too, is he too blind to see?
Your consuming liquid memory thief, don’t forget us dad
Im learning all I know from you, is this how fun is had?
Or adult relaxation? Or when you’re feeling stressed!
Does drinking really do all this? WOW IT SOUNDS THE BEST!
But if it really is this good, then what you fail to see….
Is your family stood before you whilst you pass out on the settee!

Cold morning,
I roll over, sad
And mourning.
I just want to lay here,
But I need coffee,
Something warming
And something sober,
Like black coffee.
Stone cold sober.

Strong taste to my buds,
Bitter but sweet,
Without my coffee
I’ll roam around, lost,
Looking beat.
Listening to the
beans roast and
The drip in my ***,
It sounds exactly
Like the drops hitting
My window.

It’s ready.
Hearing the pour,
A small waterfall
Into a cup, the splashes,
The aroma, something
That I can’t get over.
My first sip, it’s hot and bitter
But delicious nonetheless,
It’s perfect for the early bird,
They always say it,
They get the worm.

Until next time
Empty cup. Half a day
wait and another cold
Morning on it’s way,
Sit here and wait
Until I wake up,
For another sober cup.