ramblings and things

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This night has been so long coming
At the end of never ending day
And he seeks his kind of peace
In his only available way

A near empty whiskey bottle
Crying its last few dregs
Into glass held in shaky hand
Supported by rubbery legs
That may very soon fold
Ceasing the need
For any more
Consciousness having fled
From the body on the floor
The noisy wet breathing
A very audible way
Of showing life still
At the end of this day

That empty whiskey bottle
Drained by that last sip
Still clutched in that hand
In a near death grip
Curled almost foetally
Occupying such a small place
A look of near peace
On that careworn face
That will rouse in the morning
And vow never again to drink
But again tomorrow a bottle
Will erase the need to think

As the day drags so slowly
Towards another dreaded night
And the mind tells the body
A drink will put things right

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