Lord Bugg

I went through my poems

and found a theme,

My followers, I owe them

An apology

Most every one is about addiction

Or how much I miss my sister

I deliver them, a benediction

To bless this wound, festered and blistered

How can I not write about

The only two things on my mind

I’m a man, I’m not supposed to cry or pout

But as I grow older, I find

I can’t hold in all my emotions

Be it my mental illness

Or my moral devotion

To never fill this

Void left in my heart

I’ve been bereft from the start

You played a main character part

In my soap opera, you one of the main stars

Now I’m left drinking

Drinking water salted by sorrow

But it’s the vodka I’m thinking

Of, the elixir I’ll have night terrors about tomorrow

My never ceasing thirst

Is the second thing I think of when I wake

You are the first

I put on my mask and I fake

All the emotions, all the smiles

“Mom, Dad, don’t worry

I feel no pain” all while

I refrain from acknowledging the slurry

Of anger, rage, loneliness, remorse

Mom, Dad if you see this, I’m not okay

I’m suffering but I force

myself on, I dwell on it everyday

Stop and inhale the flower’s aroma

But I’m bleeding internally

Subdural hematoma

What the hell’s a flower to do as I’m burning infernally

This must be hell, I must have parished

Because I can’t tell a joke without turning to tell you

And your sister can’t serve a meal without making you a dish

I want to dream I drink and then follow through

But adding liquid to the dam will only flood it

I’m an alcoholic, it’s not sporadic

I try to dam my emotions, but damnit

I’m a broken addict

So I’ll write one more poem for you

Then I’ll write two more, then four

I’ll write of addiction, to help see someone else through

But If I had one wish I’d wish to see you once more