Time; a poem

Time is the entity of mistrust.
By it all is altered, by it all is dust.
Time is what triggers the running of my head.

When seeing things, I see them dead.

Things I thought I always knew, just mere reactions…tainted truth.

My blind abstractions fade away, small and meager.
Now comes the spiritual decay.

Booze > Pills

Think about it. I have. That moment of anxiety has hit you. It’s late in the evening. That time between dusk and midnight, and you don’t really know what to do with yourself. Think about it too hard and you’ll find yourself in a mental labyrinth, riddled with paralyzing self-doubt and thoughts of self contempt. It’s been a long day, and you’re half proud of yourself for waking up today before noon. You saw the daylight, you interacted with the sun. If only for a moment…either way…you and the daytime knew each other today.

But now it’s night. Again. How to curb those feelings that are native to your soul?

Well, you could either reach for the bottle of pills, or the bottle of booze. You usually opt for the pills over the liquid gold. Why? Convenience. But in that convenience lies the trap. And I’ll tell you why.

In those moments of desperation, those feelings of dormant anguish…you need a distraction…not a solution. Pick the pills and you’ll end up sitting exactly where you are, waiting for some foreign feeling to remedy your current one. But pick the booze…and you’ve sprung into action. You pour, you ready yourself for that throaty burn, and before you know it…a happy relief.

To sum this up, I’m basically serving us all a reminder that pharmaceuticals want to be an answer. But they’re not. Sometimes you just need a drink or two to side-step those thoughts that are native to your soul.

Pills are bad. Don’t take them. Just have a drink instead.