DEATH EITHER WAY

This poem is dedicated to four deceased writers: Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway...

DEATH EITHER WAY

by matt burns

I find myself

Facing this catch 22

With liquor

And my free-thinking capacities

Here we go

The less I drink

The more pain I feel being alive

But the more I drink

The less pain I feel, this is true

But the more brain cells I kill

Which also

Kind of

Withers away

Slowly 

At my life force

My brain cells

My clear thinking

And my free 

Thinking

Do away with the booze

And I’m very alive

My brain’s intact

I can think clearly

But I hurt so bad

Keep drinking

And I hurt less

But my brain withers

My thinking is foggy

And when I have less of a brain

I’m less of a human

That’s what stinks about this

Whole

Human consciousness thing...

Being fully alive in the world today hurts

So we drink

But drinking makes us less alive

So it’s all about finding a balance, I guess

Which is impossible

For the alcoholic trying to numb the pain

There is no such thing

As balance