The Lies We Tell Ourselves

A poem for alcoholics

A drink would be nice
To kickstart my day
A small glass of vino
To make these tremors go away

I’ll pop to the shop
For a bottle of wine
No one will even notice
And it’s already half-past nine

Get out my favourite glass
Pour a sensible measure
They do it on the continent
It’s a harmless pleasure

Oh my, is that all that’s left?
I’ve drunk it rather fast
I’d better get another two
Cuz that’ll never last

Ahh ― that’s more like it
Life is much more fun
With a drink in your hand
I think I’ll call my mum!

Humph! What’s her problem
The moaning old cow?
I’m only having a little fun
No need to bring me down

I know what I’ll do!
I’ll go out to that bar
I’m not even drunk yet
I’ll be fine in the car

Whoooh! This is awesome!
It’s a beautiful, sunny day
Perfect drinking weather
Hey, kid ― get the fuck outta my way!

Everything’s a blur
How’d I end up here
Lying in my own piss
With half a pint of beer?

Oh well, bottoms up
Stagger to the door
Hey watch out!
What the fuck did you push me for!?

What street am I on?
Where’d I leave my car?
I think I’d better walk it
It’s not really that far

The last thing I recall
Was tripping in the gutter
Then waking up in a bus stop
Next to some drooling nutter

Oh how the sun hurts my eyes
Is it already morning?
Have I been out all night?
Ha! Well at least I’m not boring

Time to plod on home
It’s almost half-past ten
I swear this is the last time
I’ll never ― drink again

A drink would be nice―