Poem: Alcoholic

the days hover between warm and cold
the way my hands fluctuate
in and out of yours.
"there's a hint you should be taking"
i say, just get on with this heartbreaking.
these scenes from the play we wrote
have had the curtains dropped right on cue.


you'll drink to your disappointments,
list the ways you've done me wrong,
listen to the record skip
and have another sip
of whisky or permanent ink
of turpentine or wine


don't fool yourself with talk of being numb,
it's the hangover you're after
and all this bitter laughter
just goes to show you how far you'll go
for any kind of life at all.