“I’m Tim and I’m an addict, and I last drunk a week ago.”
The circle replied ‘hi Tim’, all their eyes fixed to my shuddering body
All unaware of the eccentric movement of my quivering lips, all not wanting to be.
The chair was shaking and the room was hot, I was waiting for that time when;
I’ll be out of this circle of people of my own vice, and I’ll see my doctor.
I’m waiting for that moment ill bid her good bye and program another session.
And then I’ll go for a run across the bridge down the river,
I’ll sit by the river side and mine my gin bottle take a sip and pray;
Pray hard that the booze runs out; pray hard that id grow allergic to it,
Pray more for the sip to be the last. Just like I’ve always done a year down the road.
I reviled what I had become she hated how fast I had changed;
She detested everything that I was being to the little one.
From a span she would sniff my, breathe and shield our little one from my hug.
Frustration would lead me to the basement where I would drink until I pass out.
Another gone by and in another circle I sit;
Their eyes affixed on me with attentive intent of welcoming my testimony
‘Hi, I’m Tim; I’m an addict and I drunk last a week ago.’
The circle answered ‘Hi Tim’...
‘I’m trying to quit’ I added.