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Book 43 Page 48

Dead drunk walking

‘Dead drunk walking’;

or should I say staggering along.

He’s on his way to death,

and it won’t be long.

He’s got pains in his kidneys.

He hasn’t got a friend.

And physically and socially,

life’s all coming to an end.

‘Dead drunk walking’;

going home to sleep it off.

Been this way for years

`cause he loves to death ‘the grog.’

And sometimes he is happy,

at least he thinks he is!

He’s under this delusion,

only when he’s pissed.

And he’s the last one to see himself,

and everyone he meets he confronts.

Anything it seems is better

than to realize “you are trumped”.

For he’s not in control of anything,

and the whole world comes down on his shoulders.

And “this is the natural way for most alcoholics” they say,

their problems are like boulders.

And I wonder if he will wake up,

before he wakes up dead!?

I wonder if he can see he’s dying,

in his heart and in his head.

And O I wish at times that he would die,

for living with him is bringing me down.

I hardly smile at all these days,

I moan and cry and frown.

For I know if he doesn’t get his act together,

that only ‘he’ can do.

I’m afraid I’m ganna loose him,

and I believe it will be soon.

© Written by Dominic John Gill www.poetry.net.au  dominicj7@poetry.net.au Created  22/Nov/2006