A couple pills
A whiskey shot
Sometimes that’s all
I’ve really got
To get me through
Another day
The only torch
To light the way
I wake again
A pounding head
Within my heart
Impending dread
Can’t stand the thought
Of losing you
Can’t live without
My whiskey truth
While I do enjoy a bit of bourbon or scotch from time to time, this poem is not a celebration of such. Nor is it an indicator that I endorse using it, or some other methods, to mask our pain. I won’t say I haven’t ever tried to, because I think many of us have from time to time. Ultimately, it does not work.
There’s “blowing off steam” with a drink or two, and there’s dependency because we can’t face our issues.
The difference is in knowing where that fine line is.
Words & Image: ©2025, The Beginning At Last
The Beginning At Last 
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