Old bones
A skeleton from the closet, jumped out,
And, juggling beer-cans and bottles about,
He sang a sad song, lamenting the dead:
Buried memories, long since forgotten,
Paralytic phantoms, ghosts from the past;
Tales, drink related, shameful and rotten,
I heard, as I froze and silently gasped,
And when he’d finished his terrible song,
(The lyrics of which I’ll not tell a soul),
With skeletal hands, incredibly strong,
He tugged, twisted, pulled off his grinning skull,
And into my lap the old noggin fell;
Alas, alcoholic; I knew him well.
The chaos residing inside myself,
May soon overwhelm and cause me to fall;
Spiritual, mental and physical health,
Are but an easily, breakable wall:
A man, by a demon, is led to drink;
He fails his friends, his children and his wife;
Helplessly, he watches everything sink;
As if it was somebody else’s life.
Why does he give up his humanity,
To the self-annihilating inner voice,
Urging him on into insanity;
A mere devil’s toy bereft of all choice?
Why or whatever, he can’t now recall;
He’s drunk himself blind, in spite of it all.
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