Life Drunk, Dead Sober

I’ll sip on the times my forefathers spent.

They left concentrated cubes of generational pain to dilute my stronger spirits, and explain my empty cups.

Fill it up

I will have a taste of my own past vintage.

Swirling it around, finally giving it some feet.

Fill it up

I take a swig from the ale of my swirling frantic forward somersaulting.

Throwing myself end over end each morning, taking a new foaming tankard along for the ride.

Fill it up

Downing future-tinis to the beat, life disappearing down the hole in my head.

Every step forward, is another day gone, take a step back, and life might fade to black.

Fill it up

Fill my cup, another drink another day.

The second the lies dry up, every painful wound and memory is left barren on the ground, uncovered, dead sober.

K.B. Silver

I don’t drink alcohol anymore. Not because of a terrible personal battle with alcoholism, but because I watched my father battle, and I have a mental illness health battle. So when I realized even a single serving of alcohol was having serious repercussions on my mood (I can, as the kids say, “hold my liquor,” but even one beer will keep me up all night, and manic episodes are quickly triggered by alcohol usage), I decided to cut it out completely. I have been very happy with my personal decision and never looked back, but to be fair I wasn’t addicted when I made my choice. Cutting out sugar has not been so easy. I have made it a month or two before, and I think I could do it, but I can easily admit I am addicted to sugar.