The Drunkard

“Take another swig,” he said, “forget about the pain
Ignore what might have been, accept that you’re to blame
Don’t waste your time regretting mistakes you might have made
Find solace within the bottle and soon your pain will fade.”

And with those words of wisdom, he staggered from his chair
Content in conversation with a friend who isn’t there
And as he limped across the room and stepped onto the street
His protesting body heaved, spraying vomit at his feet.

Yet still he staggered homebound, lost in slurred mutter
But tripped and lost his balance and rolled into the gutter
And still he laughed at unheard jokes, wearing his stupid grin
As saliva, bile and beer started dripping down his chin.

There he slept until morning, where he woke in filth and waste
And glanced up at the onlookers with distaste upon their face
With his head throbbing wildly, he stood up with a groan
Then walking quite unsteadily, he quietly wandered home.

Now alone at last he grabs a drink and sits upon the floor
And downs the contents of his glass to drown out life once more.