Beside My Bed An Alcoholic Slept

Once I was an artist, and I owned a drawing compass

that I used to carve red beaded lines into my wrists and forearms

while Pink Floyd played deep and quiet, filling my bedroom

with sweet melancholy; The Wall, the soundtrack of my adolescent depression years.

I’d fall asleep to music, and wake up in the middle of the night

to find my blind drunk mother pissing on the blush hued carpet,

right beside my bed;

“Mom. What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m peeing! Get out!”

“You’re not in the bathroom!”

“Shut up…”

And sometimes she’d pass out,

face down in the piss soaked carpet,

right beside my bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6 thoughts on “Beside My Bed An Alcoholic Slept

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