Saturday Night

 There’s a hole 

In my chest

The size of a cavern

A chasm 

growing wider

And I suspect

There’s a pattern

Of plying vice upon ice

And hoping for an end

To the misery that lies within

It consumes

Like most do

When alone

Amongst ones demons

A battle surges 

To reclaim my soul

Or at the very least

The woeful return 

of my weathered happiness 

“Put another one away”

Tempting fate

But alas

I wake up

Each morning 

Wondering

When will it be my last?

I’ve seen my Death

And this way ain’t it

But until then 

I’ll keep stomaching it