A Bubbley Desire

I stumble to my bed,

drunk with pain...alcohol.

I slam my body,

against the cold sheets,

kicking the blanket,

to the floor.

My mind,

so crouded...so...screwed up.

I can't think straight.

I look out my window.

Stars...night...

They are all mixed up and blurry...

I wish to end my life...

It's all too hard.

Alcohol is the only thing...making it easy.

A sip of bubbley champaign,

and hey, my problems melt away.

A tall clear glass,

now empty.

A tall clear glass,

full of it,

sitting in my hands everytime,

a problem is born.

I love it so.

Hahahah....

Author's Note

No, I don't drink or anything like that. Truely I don't know where this poem came from. I was just thinking and out it came onto paper. So thank you for reading, please leave a review. :)

Reviews

[Tony]

Well, I don't drink either, but I know folks who do, and this sounds like something they would say. I am generally against trying to write about things I don't know about, but you made this work out okay. I suppose the seed was environmental, a friend of a friend, or something.
So, I think you have a great imagination and instead of doing all that work inventing subject, you should instead put your perspective to work with what impacts you in your environment.
I like the evil little laugh you put at the end, nice touch.

[Constance L. Hartwell]

sometimes you don't always know where the words come from! that's the amazing thing about poetry. this piece had a nice vibe to it. keep up the good writing :-)