Sobering Headache

There's gunna be some sober days.
The thinking is inevitable anyways.
As long as each day doesn't get worse,
I won't drink this sobriety like a curse.

I'll endure and breathe it in like dust.
Time is just another addiction not to trust.
Full of sorrow, I put the bottle to my lips.
To smash the glass and count the drips.

To think without the smoldering in my head,
Thoughts flow freely when the smoke is dead.
Smoke flowing, along with the alcohol-flood,
If only it was as frequent as the veins in my blood.