clarification through alcohol

sucking sucks

i want to believe in something other than madness.
each day it becomes harder
to claw through the dirt and rocks,
my finger nails worn and bleeding.
to float down a river
strumming a guitar in the sun
no one around to tell me
the notes aren't coming out quite right;
not to feel the seering heat from pointed fingers
blaming me for the small piece of soul
i still claim as my own.
to stand on mountaintops
feeling like a forgotten romantic
as october wind plays with my hair.
to forever rest under fig trees
with my eyes closed
while my mind carves out the face of God.

there's no where to go.
what will you do with freedom?
fine, here you are, the key to your chains
take it and be done with.
yes, you will disappear for a day,
maybe even a month.
don't worry my friend.
your seat at the oar will still be here
upon your return.
after all, there's no hurry
to get where we're going
we've got a lifetime after all.