Sometimes Suicidal, Mostly Booze

by Jermaine Dela Cruz
Poetry

 

Drink responsibly: don’t spill it.

They said what doesn’t kill us
makes us stronger.
I guess I was strong enough
to overcome the idea
of ending my life
haunting me like a predator
clawing its way through
the rubble
of my conscious belief
that life indeed is a gift
so precious, I don’t think
I deserve having.

They said a half truth
is a whole lie.
The truth is
I am half afraid of dying
and half afraid of living
for I haven’t figured out
which is worse:
living or leaving the ones
I care about.
So I resorted to drinking
as a sort of escape
from this catastrophe.

They said suicide
is a permanent solution
to a temporary problem.
I say alcohol
is a temporary solution
to a permanent problem.
Intoxication is the best
antidote to pain,
lost in space
grasping, babbling words.
It disconnects us
from ourselves
momentarily.

They said numbing the pain
for a while
will make it worse
when you actually feel it.
but what is more rewarding than
the fleeting sensation
of happiness,
of guiltlessness,
of chastity from
caring and crying,
loving and trying?
Waking up with a blinding headache.

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