I Am Not Thirsty By Wayne Hebb

I drink for that

Warm fuzzy feeling

Leaving my problems

In its wake

Sometimes it takes

Just one 

Despite that, I always

Have another and another

I rarely stop at two

It makes me smile until

It doesn’t and 

Things get ugly

Drunken rants

The hurling of fists 

Blows striking on

My face until 

I am a sour smelling

Lump on the floor and

The bouncers carry me out

I wake on the sidewalk 

Wet with the night rain 

Staggering to my feet 

I make my way home

To that dreary apartment

Falling on that unmade bed

I sleep in a stupor 

Waking mid-day with

Depression staring at me 

With those sad tormented eyes

And I sink into that rut

Where I am not thirsty but

I need a drink

Wayne Hebb is a retired RCMP officer living in St. John’s, NL, Canada with his wife of 49 years. He enjoys writing poetry, short stories, creative nonfiction, and novels.  Several of his poems have been published in Verse-Virtual, The Dark Poets Society, The Horseshoe Literary Magazine and The Galway Review.