Whiskey Dreamer

Drenched dreams hidden somewhere away,
Looking for his head somewhere under his bed…
“Where am I? What happened?”
He doesn’t remember… too bad.
No loud sounds, please, for they hurt.
Hold his long hair back while he says hello to his dinner…
Trying to understand the wet memories,
And frustration covers him since he can’t remember…
But with one look at his hand he understands suddenly…
“Was it a dream? Did she return?” …no.
Alone again, and the pain floods his every cell…
Time to bathe himself in whiskey again.

Reviews

[C.T. Bailey]

The pain in you poem transcends the "she" in this piece. She is a metaphor for "all that ails" and puts us there in front of that bottle. For some...she is loneliness. For some...the bottle is...?..
Tragic yet a write that demands a confrontation with the reader. Well done. This is first time I've read you...think I will do a liitle more now.
Todd

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Love the flow of this as you so powerfully speak of one who uses an artificial substitute to fill the lonely void... strangely I've been there. Really an awesome write.