Gut Rot

The booze and the blackouts
brought on by the bitter
taste in my mouth
from the blood
on the lip
of every chipped
bottle,
has made me
no Saint,
rather a bit more
human
than I used to be.

A great writer
once said that a poet
can never write
in peace,
and I believe that
to be true,
because every time I pick up
my pen,
I feel this sickness
rooted like a rotten tree
deep in my gut.