Through the blurred reverie of an alcoholic, the world is all a mirage.
With drink in hand, I stumbled drunkenly optimistic into a pink-hued sunset.
Words on paper are a broken promise of escape.
Smiles stain faces until Reality's hangover replaces it.
Oh, I don't want to be sober.
Just wake me when it's over.
It has to be a dream.
Only in a nightmare do we praise the death of a human being.
Lost in sorrow, I cheated on life with a GPS-chipped whore.
In search of validation within a band of zombies.
Speaking nigger, I listened intently to the foreign.
Allowed one to gain inch-close proximity.
Note to self: I am only a spectator.
Soon, with outstretched arms and glazed eyes, I joined.
Cigarettes and cheap malt liquor on a stoop.
A classy classic.
Reminiscing on lost hopes and dignity.
I point to my chest with unbalanced swagger.
Don't judge me! Only my father is allowed!
Convincing no one but the brain cells dissolving in carbonated alcohol.
Steadily dodging rehab and seeking Amy.
Life's little lessons have gone untaught.
There are more bottles than books and more to life than looks.
Babies with babies and adults with Adderall.
With a bottle in hand, only positive can come forth.
The intricacies of life won the battle.
War still resumes.
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