Okay, so several months ago I ran out of coffee creamer. I can't drink it black and all I had was Bailey's. So I used that and was giggling to myself that I was drinking alcohol in the morning. So I started to write a poem about it and the poem was supposed to be funny. However, sometimes my muse has a mind of her own and instead what came out was a very depressing poem. I'm still proud of it but it is vastly different than my original vision. Oh well.
I only drink in the morning
when the windows are barely alight
I care little if it's wrong
the liquor's warmth feels too right
I only drink in the morning
a splash one, two, three
blurs the lines of night and day
and pushes my mind free
Of the constant stream
of worries and fears
that numb my body
and stain my cheek with tears
I only drink in the morning
but worry for me not
I won't be here much longer
to drink more gut rot
I'll head for the west
and leave it all behind
I'll let the wind take me
and lead me about blind
To my last destination
To my resting place
I'll break into pieces
And leave no trace
See what I mean! Where the hell did that come from? I sound like a drunk, depressed old man. Maybe I'm turning into one...lately I have been referring to all my interns as young'uns and whipper-snappers. I've also been grumpier than usual and I'm craving prunes and re-runs of Matlock.
Oh God.
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