Alcohol and I

My drug of choice comes in glass, packaged so beautifully that it casts reflections off of every sliver of light that lays upon it,

I know the poison it inflicts upon my already ravaged body, but the colors have entranced me into submission,

I am nothing if not weak when it comes to my fountain of youth, even though the fountain shrivels up my very cells and creates raisins out of them,

I’m unable to lift the weight of the world because my hands are but measly sticks, but my drug of choice makes me as strong as Hercules,

But my strength only lasts until the last drop hits my tongue, afterwards, I lose all sense of purpose and fall to my knees because every step I take feels like lead,

Every time I cross the threshold of my house, I am alight with shame as I glimpse the too large body balled up to fit onto a couch much too small for it,

The smile I am met with is lined with fear and exhaustion, fear for my life and exhaustion for the shell of a person I have become,

How do I explain to the one I am hurting that it is not intentional, that I want to be better but my feet are stuck in the quicksand of addiction that protects my mind?

That are much darker thoughts in my head but my fountain keeps them at bay, relieves the tension of having to deal with life even if it is only for a moment,

I can see my family crumbling around me with dry sad eyes, but I am a slave to the tendrils wrapped so tight around me that I can barely function without the concoction that makes me sane,

I am only employed by the universe to serve as an example for the lowly, I drunk my way out of a job and into pitiful stares from those who once admired me,

I claim that my demons are silenced by the bottle but every time I close my eyes, I feel like leaving them closed forever,

How do I reconcile the fact that my salvation has slowly become my torment, and the fact that I am now drowning from the very thing that made me smile more and want to live again?

I am crushed against the wall with a demon I invited to cure me, yet, I am more afraid of going back to nothing because my demon has chased away every good thing in my life,

Will I give up the numbness of whatever ails me in exchange of a longer journey to sobriety?

Will my mind punish me for suppressing the ghosts it tried to bring forth?

Will I have the strength to fight against the very thing I embraced?

I guess that is my dilemma, to be or not to be.

By Jeanine Omondi