Alcoholic

He waits on the bus stop of his dismissal;
Fouled, shivering palms squeeze the bottle
Filled with high amount of artificial remedy.
He ended up the same dirtbag his father was.

Yet his inspiration bloomed despite the naked branches,
Raped by the raging, furious, February wind.
This year Valentines Day left him stranded
On shores of decapitated seagulls and sharp sand.

This catholic wants help from no god.
He only craves an oasis of little privilege.
Boy, you seemed to know it all too well,
Still you trust alcohol to take you to a better place.