Dear Patron.

Dear Patron,

With every sip bitter, springs a new trigger,

Memories play another, “I miss you” trailor.

My own internal motion picture.

1 Tequila, 2 tequila, 3 tequila, 4.

Keep ‘em coming, I'm already too low to hit the floor.

Please keep ‘em coming, not enough self rancor.

Didn’t want to come, didn’t want to drink.

Why won’t I stay home. I can’t seem to win.

Whether out or in. Whether here or there,

Not enough spirits to quiet my soul.

To much pain to bear.

Will I ever say no?

Will there ever be enough, I must keep filling my cup.

Madison, wake up.

Yet when I do, our love story reels continue.

Our memories I relive, good and evil.

A sober mind comes with seeing eyes.

A sober mind begets a bleeding heart.

To heal, I must feel.

To heal I have to put the glass down.

I’m sick. I’m tired. I'm in pieces.

My nightly companion, a throne of porcelain.

Asleep on cold tile, leaning over dry heaving,

I can taste last nights dinner.

Mascara running down my face, yesterday's make-up still caked.

I’m ready to reckon. I want something new. I believe there's something deeper.

The street signs to hell are familiar.

Lord guide me. Fill my cup, lift my head.

I’m ready to sleep in my own bed.

Love,

Sobriety