Gin Lullaby


He use to bring life to
every party.
Gin in one hand, cigar
in the other.
A bruised lampshade
on his
bullwhip head, his eyes
of lordship, rosehip, and
fleshly ways.
His voice full of vigor and
Capable of love but only
from a
great distance. Happy only
in his
natural void. Pockmarked,
by ego.
He tasted the brightness
of the world
but only found nourishment
in darkness.
Drinking the toxins in.
his happiness one more
glass at a time.

Years later…

He had drank his beauty
His graceless ruins
reflected in
the walls, missing cells in
his brain.
He tried to navigate to open
eyes and
enlightenment, but could
never find
a sober shore. Consumed
by thirst
Staggering. He stumbled over
his demons.
He fractured his skull on an
unlit chandelier,
fusing with the shadows and unpruned roses.
Alcohol struck a match to
leaking gas. He died on the
pyre of his addiction.
The debris, the inspiration
of this poet
forlorn and cautionary imagination.
His gin soaked ashes circling
forever in the breeze.
For a moment I abandon
myself to their sway.

-Tosha Michelle


27 thoughts on “Gin Lullaby

  1. Beautiful details, my dear. Think maybe I’ve known this same person … πŸ™‚ And The Kinks — perfect! TGIF — have a great, relaxing weekend, Miss! πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A sobering tale for anyone suffering from addiction…brilliantly told, Tosha.

    And yes to the Kinks…here is my all time favorite song of theirs entitled “Better Things” (hope the link works πŸ™‚ !!)

    Liked by 1 person

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