Alcoholism

I still haven't ate

Yet my soul feels ever consumed

By the void that swallows my sanity.

There is a darkness

Deep inside of me.

Too deep, I cannot dig to find.

Yet I scratch ever so desperately

At the wooden boards that trap my body.

For I've been buried alive.

There is no oxygen,

Yet my lungs still fill

With dreams, I've yet to see reality.

Ignorance is my only bliss.

For if I ignore these wooden boards

I may finally get some rest.