On one rare night when we were asunder, my mind suddenly began to wonder...
Was my enduring love for fermation, just a figment of my imagination? Was my relationship with
100 proof, just an excuse to act aloof? Do I drink to cope with life? Do I drink because of strife?
Am I holding a drink or is the drink holding me? I thought on this question very carefully...
I arrived at a conclusion that was no surprise; a long held belief that I failed to realize.
I love my drinks and drinks love my way, at least until I wake the following day. Remember love
can hurt and sometimes the same night, then I love my porcelalin, tile floor, and nite-lite.
We can't choose our friends but we can choose our drinks, and some gin and tonics usually work out
the kinks. Some days an Ale will bridge the gap and sometimes a Stout or Lager on tap. Rum and
Coke, White Russian, an Old fashion; a Zombie, a Grayhound, Bloody Mary, Purple Passion.
Some shots, a double, a growler or Schooner, the colder the better and not later but sooner.
I dont think its a problem, and I dont think its a curse, but its here to stay for better or worse.
I'll stay with my beer and I'll keep my liquor, because beer tastes good, but liquor is quicker.
I like my drinks through rich and poor, and even though poisoned, I came back for more.
I guess all my wondering was a bunch of crap, because as I type I'm pouring a nightcap.
~Naga~
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