Bottled up…

I bottle my pain

to keep it all for myself.

Deep inside its contained

locked away on a shelf.

I sedate it with vices

any numb I can find.

I can block out my heart

but i can’t still my mind…

Comfort from a bottle…

Red wine

is my friend

I come out of my shell.I drink alone

Relaxation and smiles

and laughter as well.

It helps my grief thaw,

and my heart see the light,

it lifts the weight from my soul

at least for tonight….




No excuse…

“I’m so sorry I cheated, I was drunk…”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was too high to know what I was doing…”

“I only took the money because I needed to get high…”

“I promise I’ll give up tomorrow…”

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What a crock of shit.


Liars, cheaters, thieves and abusers give drugs and alcohol a bad name.




My hangover…

The best thing i can do, is have a beer, and a snort.Image

Im no alcoholic. . .

I love drinking beer.   I don’t consider myself to be an alcoholic because I don’t drink alot of alcohol and I rarely get drunk.  I just simply love beer.  Someone once told me that if you have an alcoholic drink (even just 1) at the same time every day, so that it becomes part of your routine, then you are an alcoholic…   That sounds like a load of codswallop to me!  I don’t believe a word of it!

What is wrong with just simply liking beer?   Why would anyone even care about how much beer I do or don’t drink?      If I had to, I could, and would give up every habit I have – yes, even smoking. . .

ImageBut I will never, ever give up beer.