PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Dreading the pending last call every night,

knowing the spigot will turn off the flow.

I’ll stagger homeward in my drunken plight,

not caring if I’ve reached my plateau.



I sit and sip ‘til my olive is bare,

wobbling with fingers twisted in my hair.



Night after night I play the same old game,

mixing it up with Seagrams and Schweppes.

Knowing I have only me to take blame,

pondering if I should start the twelve steps.