94. The Junkey
The self-humiliation of the lusts of alcohol
resulted in a holiday at the resort for freaks,
the local funny-house, where everyone is happy
in disgrace, appearing nuts, completely without sanity,
a dried up drunk place, where sobriety is just a fake,
since everyone, as soon as he gets out of there,
refreshed and loaded with some monetary aid of charity,
immediately vanishes to drinking bouts again,
where soon he will again be picked up like a parcel
and collected by the office of assortment
that indifferently and automatically will return him
to his only constant destination and his last definite home:
the rehabilitation clinic, where he always finds his own,
the comrades that he shares his life with
and who understand him, since they all have nothing left
than for the rest of their degraded lives
in common share their constantly increasing damage of the brain,
which is the only thing they manage to accomplish
by abandoning themselves to self destruction
through the blessings of the self-deceit
of finally one day succeeding in
the quest of drinking one's brains out to death.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2006-08-28 at 10:43
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