A Wino And A Junkie. Poem by Neil Gray

'I'm off to powder my nose' she say's.

Saturday Night's now Sunday Morning
and this place is still going strong.

'I wish you wouldn't' I reply.

There's a mountain of drink
stacked high in the kitchen
and a cue in the hallway
to talk to the toilet.

'Oh come off it,
don't be such an arse'

Someone's started a bonfire
in the back garden
and the local muso's
are murdering what
I think used to be
a Dylan tune.

'Look,
I'm not being an arse
it's just that shit makes
you a pain to be around'

A few people are looking worried,
something about annoying the neighbour's,
which would be a concern
if they weren't passed out
in the living room.

'Oh right,
so it's fine for you to swill
that puke like it's going out of style
but if I want to have
a little pick me up then
I'm out of order'

I watch a group lads
who have grabbed a football
and are doing their best tricks
out on the lawn.

Trust me,
the Brazilian's have
nothing to worry about.

'All I'm saying is that
if I wanted to watch you grin
like a lunatic and talk
complete bollocks
I'd hang out with you
and your friends
on a Thursday Night'

As I walk away
with the morning chorus,
I can still hear her shouting abuse
at me half a street over,
(considering how loud
that place is I'm quite surprized) ,
and I know now how
this is going to end.

She'll carry on for a few day's,
as long as there's lines to
prop her up,
before crawling home
promising that it's the last time,
that she'll ever do it.

And I'll believe her like always.

And the next week
we'll be fine,
it'll be great,
we'll be happy,
we'll be in love.

Then Saturday will roll around once more
and we'll return to
the status quo.

A wino and a junkie
once again at war.

When fear's the only thing
that keeps you together
perhaps it's
better to
die
alone.