I can trust
A liar
Like I won't believe
What isn't true
As the alcohol
Swirls on the downers breath
He results to stealing
Because the fumes in his head
Tells him to
Thinks he's stealthy
Just a drunk
Stealing things
He doesn't need to steal
Because he thinks
He needs them
To feel alive
When he's dead in the bottom of the bottle
And also wants to mix
Fireball and pain killers
Because he says he hurts
I think he won't admit it
But the pain he's chasing
Can't be killed that way
But he can
YOU ARE READING
365
Non-FictionI had this idea last night after a few drinks, a pounding headache, and an excessive amount of throat lozenges. In order to inspire me to write more often than I currently do, I am planning to write a new post every day and publish it, allowing me t...
