Rum transports me to a place as glittery as sugar,
a heady haven where I don't have a single care.
No bills piling up that I can't pay
No boss refusing to give me a raise
No wife flirting with other men
Gin dries out the tears that I would never dare to cry
when things get so tough that I can't open my eyes,
for fear of seeing whatever bad things my kids might be doing.
Totaling the car
Bullying other kids at school
Stealing my credit card from my wallet
Wine fogs reality in its own mystical way,
tricking me into thinking that my wife is not cheating on me,
even though she is.
The sweet, fruity liquid paints pictures
of the woman who couldn't wait to marry me
twenty years ago.
I blink my hazy eyes
and I see pictures of the family that was never out of control.
Nostalgic mirages ease the pain,
but they will never fix the problems.
There are too many problems to fix
and not enough alcohol to fix them.
She says I love my booze more than I love her.
Is that what's driving her away?
I can't remember which came first--
me hitting the bottle
or her hitting on other men.
Is booze really what started all of this?
Or has it just been my coping mechanism?
My mind is so cloudy every day.
How will I ever be sure
whether the thing that I've been clinging to for help
was the very thing that created all of the problems?