Good Friend

alcoholism

I know all too well how the smell uses me,

The effect it has on my blood in my veins.

And yet, when a customer complained of spilt wine,

I volunteered, despite my past alcoholic pains.

And it looked so sweet

And I could feel it in my throat.

I got the old urge through my fingertips,

Ignoring my doctor reciting, "Don't."

I looked around at the pale faces.

Not here, wait, not here.

Because to encourage this disease

Is not mine, but others' fear.

I didn't mention this to you,

It didn't seem important at the time.

But the crave was crawling and growling

More so than my urge to rhyme.

A whole twenty-four hours,

I could even say twenty-five.

This was not my idea to suggest,

But it fell from my lips in a high.

I was more than willing to give up the cash

In exchange for a cold bottle in hand,

Fingers twitching, jaw askew,

Constantly readjusting myself in the van.

A tall silhouette with curly hair

Came walking out smoothly with a cart.

What's in the cart? What's in the cart?

When did the impulse become so hard?

The boxes were loaded in the back of the van

And I felt it run through my lips.

I looked nervously to the dark, shadowed faces.

Does anybody else feel this?

Stay calm, I told myself, stay calm.

But I couldn't keep my heart quiet.

The beat ran through, breaking a rib,

And I knew I'd soon be unable to sit.

Get me out of here, I thought to you,

But you were busy humming a song, The Kinks?

I admired the way you could talk without shaking,

Keeping your thoughts far from the drinks.

Everyone was gone now, disappeared,

And we were left to get cups and pong balls.

Trying to walk one foot in front of the other,

Feeling desperately enclosed in these tyranting walls.

I tried to seem under control.

Tell me, am I a good actress?

But that doesn't matter now,

Let's just get out of this mess.

Mess? What mess? I don't see a mess.

Let's just speed to the tall girl's place

So I can be the first to the fridge

And open myself a personal case.

Finally. And I busted open the door.

I remember you won the contest.

I had a few sips, went to vomit,

And then I don't remember, I'll confess.

Did I sit on somebody's lap?

Did someone force-feed me caloric bread?

But I don't know how many hours it's been

Or what anybody's even said.

What's this talk of a toothbrush?

Who's this guy I've never even met?

I don't remember a drummer named Brandon.

But just one more drink and I'll be set.

Is it true you held my hair back that night?

I'm sorry, I don't remember at all.

I should have warned before you were such a good friend

That I'm one of those girls who abuse alcohol.