The condensation drips down your clammy palms, Finally reunited with that cold bottle, that cold can; Giddy with the relief you will soon feel, You hastily crack or pop the drink open, and gulp until the world seems utopian.
You drink until you need to come up for air, But only briefly until your back down; Hoping that by the end of the bottle, Your anxiety will be drowned.
Drinking is strange; There are so many who struggle to find enough water to survive, And then others who cannot function without alcohol.. Despite beliefs that the two are different, that drinking, sometimes it just deprives.
I’ve seen people whose hands shake before a beer; Those who will hit and degrade you in a drunken psychosis, And I can tell you first hand.. Not one of them want to live like this.
I’ve drunken in some beautiful things in my life, Sunsets, boys eyes, true friendship, timeless art; These are what keep my soul in tact, Because alcohol is tearing it apart.