Prayer To the Porcelain God
Short footed god of porcelain and white,
I ask your help to get me through the night,
I come to you again in agony and despair,
With whiskey on my breath,
And peanut shells in my hair.
My head is pounding,
The room is spinning,
The total reversal of the contents of my stomach,
Unfortunately is beginning.
I can walk no further,
I can drink no longer,
My shear stupidity,
I sit in the floor and ponder,
I didn’t come here for self-degradation,
I had no intention to give common sense the boot,
But responsibility and moderation,
Unfortunately are not my strong suits.
I hang my head in reverence,
I assume the position,
My gift to you will soon commence,
Through your crown of my own fruition.
Save me from myself,
Save my life from going south,
Save me from witnessing,
My shoes come out of my mouth.
But, if I must give back,
All that I have taken in,
Help me make it to tomorrow,
So that I may be forgiven,
For my depravity and sin.
If you’ll just do that for me,
I swear I’ll never drink again,
It’s a real waste to go out every weekend,
And never remember any of the things I’ve done,
Or the places I’ve been.
I know that talk is few and far between,
But I don’t want the bad me to be,
All that anyone can remember being seen.
Please except my prayer to you this day,
As I pull the lever and wash this night away,
I’ll make good on my promise,
Thanks for listening to my praying,
And I won’t be back again tomorrow,
Of course, that’s what I’ve always been saying.
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