At a steep angle
The bottle does glug
The glass fills fast
With awe I gasp
Stops my worries in their tracks
A salt line to a slug...
A taste of freedom
Down my throat
Worries jettisoned
My sacred medicine
Temporary isolation
Just a tidal moat...
Why are we here?
I don't remember
The summer gives way
To the misty mornings of September
Early dementia
Who are you?
At depth I yearn
For bioluminescent blue
You feel the dark cold?
I feel it too
-
Author:
Syd (
Offline) - Published: August 31st, 2026 16:41
- Comment from author about the poem: Written in May 2018 when I was drinking too much.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: peto, Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
This poem has a special feel to it. It feels liquid in color and it flows quenching a thirst. Nicely done my friend
Thank you Sorenbarret. I very much appreciate your kind comment.
- Syd 🍄
My pleasure Syd
I'm an alkie syd
So I get this completely
Like I said of your last write
You have defo found another level
Well done
Hi peto,
I'm sorry to hear that but at least we're on the same page 😂
I'm nowhere near as bad now as I was when I wrote this in 2018, I was drinking seven days a week back then. I really appreciate your kind comment.
Much appreciated mate - Syd 🍄
No need for sorry mate
Been sober over 20 year
Keep em coming
Well said; your poem revolves around the complexities of escapism, isolation, and the search for meaning in life.
Hi Friendship,
Thank you for reading and commenting. Yes, I suppose it does.
I appreciate you stopping by - Syd 🍄
The need for obliviousness obviously there at the time and that poem bears witness. Did a fine job to fight your way out, Syd. I felt the write was part of the battle.
.
Was it easy?
Hi Dave,
Thank for stopping by and commenting. I'll be totally honest and say I didn't exactly fight. Things just changed, I got older and hangovers and depression got worse. I'm lucky if I drink two days a week now. My body and mind can't handle it. I didn't really fight, I just let nature run it's course.
- Syd 🍄
Yes, those hangovers...
Thanks Syd - it makes perfect sense to me. After all those years, I drink every day, in very measured amounts.
There’s a damn effective descent happening here—the bottle begins as “freedom” and “sacred medicine,” then the poem gradually reveals the cold, isolating cost underneath the relief. The final exchange is haunting because the darkness becomes both emotional and literal, with dementia, memory, and that bioluminescent blue pulling the speaker deeper.
Hi Thomas,
Thanks for stopping by, reading and commenting.
Much appreciated - Syd 🍄
What a powerful piece, Syd. I know that urge to numb the noise and make the world recede for a while...and I know the clarity that comes from no longer living there. I’m glad we both made it to this side of the bottle, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Hi Tristan,
I'm glad to hear you're on the other side. I'm not quite there yet, I still drink quite a lot on weekends as stopping completely is quite hard.
I appreciate you stopping by. I'm glad you like the poem.
- Syd 🍄
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