My Way
Regrets
I've had a few.
Fuck,
Frank, that's one hell of an understatement. I've had a lot more than
a few
Taking
another mouthful of the burning liquid from the bottle I shivered, as
it set fire to my throat on the way down.
Sitting
there with the only friend I had in the world, a bottle of Jack
Daniels, I wondered why the fuck I was still here. Then realized it
was probably because if I tried to end it I'd fuck that up just like
I'd fucked up everything else I'd ever tried.
Another
mouthful and the haunting words of Frank Sinatra filled my mind
again.
Too
few to mention.
Yeah
right Frank I'd had that fucking many I had lost fucking count. The
self-harming, the failed marriages, in fact my failure at fucking
everything and anything. Still none of it mattered any more, not now,
now I could, and would, do anything I wanted.
The
trouble was though all I wanted to do was empty this bottle and then
start another, if I was still capable.
©JSMorbius
3 comments:
This was deep; very good. I read this through, and I was amazed at how well it turned. Something identifiable. Great piece Julez.
I've never come face to face with alcoholism, but you give me a picture that I can believe. I'm definitely familiar with the feeling of futility and regret. Fantastic teaser.
Such a haunting tease. Just fabulous, Julez.
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