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An Alcoholic
by Adrian CalhounNothing left in the tank,
reserves are depleted.
No more reasons to care,
no more reasons to give up.
Everything to fight over,
nothing to fight for.
Feeling like a tree,
standing in front of a paper mill.
Just waiting,
shaking in the wind
with no where to run.
The axeman is coming.
Somedays it's easy to to forget and go on,
other days it can really drag you down.
Demons come calling,
ones you thought were dead and gone.
The fires don't die,
they just smolder.
Years pass by,
memories fade,
but the scars are still fresh.
Just another day in paradise,
another day sober.
02/10/2009 Author's Note: Sometimes it's hard to resist, even after years without it.
Posted on 02/10/2009
Copyright © 2024 Adrian Calhoun
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 02/10/09 at 03:42 PM Really good write Adrian! I used it wash away the sins of being born but it never did work. I never felt any different so I took up the pen. Again, nicely done! |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 02/10/09 at 04:17 PM "memories fade,
but the scars are still fresh."
And sometimes....
they still itch, often worse when we can't remember why.
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| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 02/10/09 at 05:23 PM ...fresh words, ageless lament, i bow to your stamnia, extending 'real' to the world, those you're holding on your homepage...other's mirrors define us...good, write, rife with pathos. |
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