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?