September 27, 2009
The drink of sin,

A drunkard’s binge.
The fiery descent through the throat,

Slowly killing the liver and ending life.
With a gun in hand,

A drunkard knocks on his ex-wife’s door.
With thought in mind and a letter on the table,

The writer kicks the chair away.
With tear stained and stinging cheeks,

A child cries and hides from his mother in a closet.
With a bottomless stomach, the man closes his father’s eyes,

His ears deaf to the continuous beep in a room of white.

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