Treat

Some thoughts from my brain about drink idk?

I make good on the nights I lose

with reparations after too much booze

and tell myself I get to choose

not to behave that way again.

Yet not one week later I repeat

the actions that lead to my defeat,

I tell myself that it’s just a treat

to have one drink that leads to 10.

 

Sunday’s are a gnawing feeling

where memory flashes leave me reeling,

because my icy façade was peeling

and I said what I really thought.

2 paracetamol and a pint of water,

smile like the perfect daughter,

I recall that they almost caught her

trying so hard to be caught.

 

Monday to Friday in shades of grey,

an expressionless face worn all day.

Sensibility sold for fair pay

and adorned in functionality.

Colour creeps in by Friday night,

painted expression in a strobe light.

Sensibility sold for the right

to call alcohol a personality.

 

Every few months I say “That’s enough.”

Sunday’s are getting far too rough,

but by Friday I have called my bluff.

How did I end up in town?

I laugh, “I’ve got no willpower,”

as I pile in on two drinks per hour

and perch atop a 40% tower,

by the morning I’ve fallen back down.

 

And tell myself I get to choose

not to behave that way again.

I tell myself that it’s just a treat

to have one drink that leads to 10.