Why I Drink (An Ode to the Past I Was)


I smoke to get high
I drink for the taste
and when my taste gives out
I drink till pass out.
Cause I want to be rid of my sense
…but can’t wait for them to return.
Alcohol is poison,
but I’m trying to kill the depression
that resides inside of me.
The drinking, the getting drunk,
the waking and sobering up
are as close to me 
as the little things
like my rapping a past 
that sober me would never mention.
Or trying to kiss girls
that I had made as friends.
Perhaps for that reason.
It’s the experiences
between us that made me trust you.
…Maybe that is how I will die.
Vomiting and shivering.
I should have started to stop at 7.
But that was blasphemy
although 13 was bad luck.
In cloudy retrospect
I can’t remember where I stopped
though I began when I started to think.
…I don’t know how to stop that.
Not on my own yet.
In truth…
This is more than the drinking.
This is more than getting drunk.
This is more than the waking and sobering up.
This is a battle to keep your memories
while still trying to forget you.
I’m an imaginary friend.
Nephew.
Student.
Person.
I’m sorry for the lack of visits.
Conversations.
Moments.
Together. 
They were few.
You were leaving.
I couldn’t stop my life for that could I?
Should I?
For but a mere day…
why didn’t I?

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