Alcohol is the Key to the Soul

Alcohol is the Key to the Soul

Back into my room, I go;

Into the shelter where I cower and quiver,

The crutch keeping this godless temple from collapse.

The light abandoned me long ago,

If it ever even existed.

I move forward treading on pretenses

That, for all I know, have long since withered.

Were they ever even there? Did I dream it all?

The One, up there, has instructed all to forego

My state of being, thinking, longing...

Under the sight of a single pair of eyes,

Unprotected from their judgement, all I can do is shiver;

That is, in spite of my unfounded belief that I am stronger than this.

And here I thought I'd found another, but no.

Those eyes are empty. Shallow. Unknowing.

Into the arms of my protector, I collapse,

But now, I find no comfort whatsoever.

Instead, the roles have reversed, and I now attempt to console.

But when did my friend become my faux?

Have I always been reaching towards empty arms?

Arms that know no length, no warmth, no love,

That wrap around my neck - the embrace of my forgiver;

The Love That Never Was - That I Can't Let Go.

Whoever hears, says "Oh no, such a tale of Woe!",

But what is being done to eliminate these calamities?

It falls upon me, the owner of my soul,

Whenever my anger peaks at a fever,

To enclose my arms around my saviours.

Hoping that one day, the non-existent will grow...

Multiply the nothingness, and...