I hear the clink of ice on glass and know the glass is full awaiting my lips, my thirst, my all consuming desire
to drink it down down down
to drink it down down down.
For I poured it to be drunk and drunk it shall be
because I'm here with it
or them, for there are always more than one
sometimes too numerous to count
like an unbroken record that never stood.

Who's counting anyway?
Not I
for me there's no difference
to stop at one, twenty, or more.
Only to you does the amount matter
the change in persona, per se
the change in aroma, "Ugly"

And why?
What for?
Because I wanted one more?
More than him, more than her, more than the one who lives next door

Why do you notice?
Do you notice indeed?
Something I've missed, a disbelief?

I'm the one who stood there and now I lay here translating the pain, the fear
of ignorance, of being ignored
of hating the feeling of being totally bored.
To think that a drink will boredom dispel
it twists it and turns it and takes it to Hell
and fills it with bubbles and lager and lime.

Time still passes and time still remains
Will today be repeated tonight or again and again?
Will there be dry spells and remissions and drink free days?
Will it go away forever or cloud every day?

It darkens proceedings with its very acceptance
Why should I consider control or abstinence?
For he does it and she does it, they do it as well
What's the difference and who's to tell?
Is it like beauty in the eye of the beholder?
Are you spying, watching over my shoulder?
Seeing what?
An entire day, a week, a lifetime perhaps
or do you judge the occasional lapse
the outbursts of emotions, of feelings and thoughts
times when the bubbles pop out the cork
of the bottle shaken, kicked, and thrown
or left unattended, left all alone
to warm then chill as the climate dictates
to be consumed before the use-by date
or returned unopened, undrunk, untried
a refund obtained, a discontinued line
out of date, out of fashion, out-moded, antique
too harsh on the stomach, just not for the weak
advertised wrongly, the wrong demographic.
I just sit still and watch the traffic
and hope that my life will one day come
to shake the tedium to which I succumb
without thinking sometimes and sometimes with guilt
the dryness won't kill me, I surely won't wilt.

Then it's back to why not and why does it matter?
Will anyones dreams really be shattered?
What of cessation or total withdrawal
labelled already by one and all.
"Reasons for abstaining" they ask, do they care?
Choice, prerogative, a dark hidden secret that lurks unseen?
"It can't be just because, the thought's obscene"
"That he gave up like that and now shows no interest"
"Haven't you heard, it all became pointless"
filling in deeds found worthless.
Deeds missed by himself as much as by others
the things forgotten or altered,
changed to suit the occasion, the company
a lie becomes truth.

And why?
You can't drink for the sake of having a tipple
a chance to talk, to get to kiss a nipple
or to see a face you've seen before
"There's something else, there's something more".

Why look so hard?
Do you see yourself?
Something in you you can't dispel?
Some hidden agenda, why you do what you do?
Something you smother, he must do it too.
But I'm not you and you're not I
we're not of one soul, one heart, one mind
but separate and different, with unique dreams and fears
as individual as fingerprints away from our peers.
For who knows about tomorrow or the day after that?
Fears may be realised and dreams turn black
to be overcome, to be shown as unreal
I continue on, I continue with zeal.
Yes I've been hurt but I'm sure I'll heal.
And scars I'll wear as reminders
memories I'll carry as teachers
the people I've met are met
and the people I've seen are seen
it still adds up to the one human being
THAT'S ME.