The Weary Alcoholic

The look on the face of a weary alcoholic.

The lines showing wear, tear and deterioration.

He staggers aimlessly as his goal oriented path

has dissipated.

To ask him a question only to loathe the reply.

The only thing real is the next drink.

His words are not of wisdom but of drunkenness and mental

aberration.

Living in a world of incoherent bliss.

The only thing real is the next drink.

His inhibitions lowered to subhuman standards.

Everyone around him…disgusted by association.

Bathing is of least concern.

The only thing real is  the next drink.

Cornering markets on breath mints, chewing gum and mouthwash.

Seemingly to camouflage the reeking.

Everyone knows its a scam.

The only thing real is the next drink.

written by Joan Farley Nyobe

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About jfarley53

Being 56 is wonderful. I have so many new and jumbled insights on life.
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One Response to The Weary Alcoholic

  1. This one touches home because I was there in that poem. Very good work !

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