((Tip the glass))

His choice is his choice, my voice is my voice, and my voice of reason shouldn’t be breathing upon him, I applaud him, wishing I could blink like a genie so I can go back and deny that drink, now of days the mind denies I drink, but some days I drink to the point my eyes are pink, on the brink of collapsing, the falling action is I’m following others action, like “another shot, come on”, next shot, I’m back on…now if I don’t stop, I’m gone…or on to the next step where I’ll be left in a cold sweat on someone’s lawn, and I say I don’t need help but that is just how well I coned myself, so I continue to sip and belch and see that I am a trip myself, cause I proceed to trip myself and watch my health…dwindle like the liquor in bottles upon the bartender’s shelf…  

S.W.Breaston aka S.Phantom