Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

One  more drink and just my essence 
remains. My speech is owned by another
and my body moves beyond my control.
I can smell my ego and taste my vileness.

I walk the road of champions and fight
the fight of heroes. Another drink 
and my fists are iron ingots, 
my prowess unrivalled. 

I am what every woman desires
and every man envies. I am Saturday 
night dancing, without the Sunday 
morning blues. 

One more drink and I am a friend to the world . 
And, as my ripple affects everything around me,
I become complete. No shyness, no redeeming qualities. 
The bull to my harem.

So why am I bleeding and broken?
My words were strong and my stance 
even stronger. Yet here I sit, undone
like a cork from a bottle.

Where was my prowess, my touch
of steel? Lied to by the contents
of my glass, I am bitter. I paid 
my money, where was my victory?

The taxi home, the swollen eye. My ego,
ballooned at the bottom of a glass, deflated 
by the prick of a fist. And my voice, once baritone 
in timbre, has become timid in frame.

The morning wakes with screeming echoes
of the night before and phone calls from
laughing hyena's that I'll meet at work
on Monday morning.

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