Blacked Out Drunk

Blacked Out Drunk

I’ve always been afraid of the dark,

Yet here I sit in the sallow lights and echoing quiet of this paneled sun room.

Surrounded by faded childhood toys and furniture so old it creaks when you sigh,

Like the sighs from the main room of the house as they shoot up a sweet release.

I’ve never been much for the hard drugs, the heroine and coke I mean

No, I’ve taken a liking to the ones that leave you breathless in piles of your own sweat and vomit.

Drugs like alcohol and the pure adrenaline pumping through my veins as we race through the streets wondering if this will be the day

When the dark and I meet to finally settle these differences

Demon to demon, blood thirsty, craving the fall …

Today wasn’t the day.

So here I sit in the sun room staring into the darkness with a half empty case of beer and an empty bottle of Jack.

Did I drink that much already?

It’s not my fault.

It’s just that the alcohol falls down my throat,

The way the bath water did the night I was blacked out drunk

And when I came to, choking and struggling for air,

All he said was ‘if you didn’t wake up we were going to leave you on the corner for the ambulance to find.’

Nevermind that I’m naked and doused in cold water.

Nevermind that it’s January and the snow banks are taller than me.

Nevermind that it’s 2AM and dark outside and so quiet.

Tonight, I resolve, I won’t drink so much.

Except I already have and I can feel my demons closing in as the room starts to spin.

Maybe I’ll wake up drowning in the bath again,

Or perhaps this time they’ll leave me, with the booze and the drugs, on the corner for someone to find.

In the cold, naked and doused in water.

In the dark and the quiet.

Where the demons dare to seep into the recesses of idle minds.

But that’s the thing about the dark and the silence and the demons;

They’re so much easier to ignore when the alcohol is just falling down your throat,

And you’re always blacked out drunk.