Life is an alcoholic,

The high-functioning kind.

A candle full of ash,

Sits lonely on the bedside table,

Accompanied only,

By bottle caps,

The twisty tops,

Bottle openers became too ambitious.

Stains fill the bottom of life’s fridge,

Redder than its eyes.

Life doesn’t think hard enough,

To remember the last time it didn’t drink.

Empty comfort of a pseudo-warm stomach,

Beckons attendance,

Life treats itself to some bendy straws,

As it is inserted,

The chapped lips peel back,

Revealing worn teeth and a jagged smile.

Life gives you two choices:

You can be,

Fast food,

Mouthwash,

Eye drops,

And a toothless grin.

Or you can be

A warm meal,

Two blankets,

And a arm reaching out,

Truly believing you can make it better.

Support us?