That full moon in Pisces has been tough I’m not going to lie. I felt magnetised and charged full of creative ideas, which is a good thing- it was just a little draining. A lot like alcoholism.
I also decided to detox (note to self, bad timing).
Seven days without a drink is pretty amazing, for me anyway. While I would like to say that it’s a good thing, I know it is- it feels rather the opposite.
So to distract myself from alcoholism I’ve been getting absently lost in a dreamy daze and putting my thoughts into practice. Taking them out of the logical realm and bringing them into reality- however bizarre and abstract my thoughts may be.
You see why I drink? I make less sense when I’m sober.
As unpleasant as feeling emotions are, sometimes you’ve just got to, so a little detox for the soul in time for the autumn equinox was much needed.
“First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.”
F Scott Fitzgerald
I often wonder why so many writers are alcoholics. Perhaps liquor frees limitations so you can write your truth more freely.
Maybe it’s because writers aren’t always great at social interaction- choosing to write instead, so a nice bourbon gives us the fire we need.
Speaking for myself, maybe I’m just a little bit mad, but so many people I know have been touched by alcoholism, alcohol is a spear in my side.
A demon I need to vanquish, but I just can’t shake it. A little break will have to suffice.
Alcohol makes me do the wildest things. It’s like drinking stardust. I lust after the sensation of being intoxicated.
But being sober sometimes is more terrifying because I have to face what I’ve done whilst drunk, no wonder I spend less and less time sober. It’s like having another personality.
Anyway, I was mulling over thoughts deep into the night last night and wrote this poem about Alcoholism.
That terrifying sliding grasp on reality that you just can’t keep a hold of, no matter how hard you try.
You just get your shit together then bam! You’ve lost another week. That constant juggling of wanting to drink, drinking because you have to and the wishing you could stop.
It’s like some crazy circus, no one here gets out alive.
I guess it’s based on a mixture of personal experience of alcoholism and people I’ve known in the past. Unfortunately, most of them aren’t here anymore to read it, so you’ll just have to do instead.
Sleep deeper, dream in doubt
Get off the roundabout,
Climb back on, one more drink,
Play a sad tune while I think.
Listen to the quartet, bang the gong
Dismount the roundabout once again,
They’re still playing that same old song,
Guess I’d better get back on.
Three months have passed, I’m still here
Going around, miss another year.
Perhaps I’ll stop, why-ever not?
But then it’s August and the sun is hot.
Sit in the beer garden, one more round,
Back on again, “I’m short by a pound,”
Maybe this time I’ll just jump right off,
Actually, I don’t think I want to stop.
I thought I might be broken,
All of these drinks don’t add up,
My neighbour is pissed off again,
“Pass your glass, let me top it up.”
Imagine what it’s like to stand still,
Watching us go round and round,
Then I find myself down on the ground,
I’m dizzy at first, but I stand up.
At last I did it, I finally got off,
I’m only wearing odd flipping socks,
“How long’s it been, another year?”
Every time it gets a little longer.
The frost it bites, chills are in the air,
I wish I had a nice glass of scotch,
December’s getting close, I don’t care,
I miss the sound of laughter together.
Warm and merry faces greet me everywhere,
Warmth is in the ice cold air,
“Would you like another drink?”
“Yes I think would, cheers”, ‘clink, clink.’
As February draws to a close,
I’ve messed up again with sober woes,
“Maybe I’ll just get back on the roundabout,”
Feeling straight and rather flat.
This time it’s been six whole days,
Each day it feels like one long maze,
Just a crisp horizontal horizon,
Perhaps I should just take one sip.
A nice refreshing ice cold beer,
“Tequilas please, 5 more shots,”
Then a bottle of bourbon on the rocks,
And then it’s onto cider for a week.
“What day’s it now?” I’ve forgotten to eat,
I hurt my leg when I fell over,
Man I wish I was god damn sober,
Round and round, now it’s October.
Every days a marathon,
Watching the clock go Tick Tock,
Waiting for the shaking to stop,
This time I won’t be able to get off.
“All aboard” the roundabout,
Here we go again,
That haunted music keeps on playing,
The world goes round and I keep swaying.
It’s getting dark, the moon is bright,
I know I’ve got a choice to make,
A voice in my head keeps saying,
“You’ve reached your final destination”.