Drunken Regret

The only regret I have at this point is that I am alive,

how could I feel any disdain for the ambrosia that

made me my own god.

I said being drunk was as close to being dead as I could get

and I meant it

and it was glorious.

There is bile crusting my carpet

I could never be bothered to clean and it has

eaten through my floor like

the booze through my liver.

I wish my liver had failed faster than the floorboards,

I wish I kept my acid in my gut

but I burned a hole through my facade.

You sent me away

and locked the liquor up.

The sober set into my veins like lead,

the poison didn't leave my blood for months.

Vision finally clear

the regret hits like shards of amber glass.