An introduction to alcoholism

 

You wake, sip, then force

The thick chemical clog to the back of your throat

It sits persistent in dipping skin

And cheek pouches

Like a rodent, you ponder

Spit or swallow

And as she slips

And skips down oesophagus

Forcing her bulging, wrinkled body

Into deeper holes

Deeper hopes

And steeper slopes

She numbs your brain

Body and brain

And numbs the pain

 

She rests momentarily

Before your stomach

And lurches in chunks upwards to heaven

Tonight’s dinner:

Casserole and rice and bile

She makes your cheeks blush

And hairs stand on end

Sweet lumps of plaque

And yellowed paste propelled

But forcing it down in heavy gulps

She continues her journey

To cancer-ridden joints

Where she makes her dwelling

Your blood her bed

 

And in the aftermath

She lingers forcefully

In tongue grooves

Beneath and between teeth

Peppered and salted

Plated and served

Your heart rate is jacked

Lip’s bittersweet, and temperament cracked

Screenplay for a poem (1)

Fade in:

A young man, wearing a dark blue suit, stands in the centre of an empty set and takes his jacket off.

V/O:

1

2

3, 4-methylenedioxy-methamphetamine

I’m in ecstasy, or am I ecstasy.

 

He stands, looks arounds, and twists his wrists.

 

Each of my cells embrace the

Growing eloquence of mercy

I’m trapped

In this cell.

My tissue aching in the mirage

I need a tissue

Is this real?

 

He begins to move his body slightly as music begins (Toro y Moi – ‘So many details’).

 

Sitting on the balcony of the sky

Looking down my cranial cavity at the tiny people in their tiny lives

And then I’m knocking down the parameters of my body’s protection

Pretty pill in pretty paper. Pretty pill in ugly mouth.

Ha.

 

His movements become more jagged and the images overlap to look like two bodies moving in the same space. His eyes close and he unbuttons his shirt.

 

And now in this dark alley we’re swaying.

And now in this doorway we’re judged.

And now in this body all my blood is broken.

And now in this club, like my drinks, my feelings are mixed.

 

He taps his feet and his hands jerk outwards as he dances. Different films of the same man dancing are played over each other so his movements appear more fragmented and jolting.

 

Teeth grinding and eyes blurred

Sweat on my fingertips, or knuckles

I can’t sleep but I don’t want to

Mouth dried and sickly sweet

Body steaming as I breathe in

Inspiration, or inspired by the addiction

 

His body is moving fast and his quick dancing is interjected by a still image of him staring directly at the camera. The two images blur and the whole screen is messy and confused.

 

Dopamine and noradrenaline and serotonin.

My genes stick to me.

My jeans stick to me.

As the obsession grows, so does the fear.

 

The image fades to black.