“Letting the Light In”
 
Even the light needs to creep sometimes
under a door or through some curtains
on a Sunday morning,
when the whisky can do nothing
but remind me it’s never enough,
and sickness from a hangover
becomes just another sad sunrise
I tell myself I didn’t want
because it’s always been easier
to hate instead of love. 
 
“The Madness We Shared”
 
Seeing my friend who is now sober
is a sad feeling- not for the madness
we shared on those nights
when the days seemed too long
and the only answer we had
was Christmas Brass
on vinyl and rye whisky,
but for how it all makes the past
seem more past, while the present
does a drunken bellyflop into a pool,
splashing my grey hair.