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it’s tricky,
trying
to maintain
your balance
with
whiskey dreams
in one hand
and madness
burning
the other

to drink
to live
in the space
between
the blanks
and bits
of blackouts
swirling
reality
like rocks
in an
empty glass,
and the
confusion,
the not knowing
what’s real
or imagined,
whether
the spirits
are really
there

to save you
or
devour you

because,
if you slip,
you know
the demons
will feast
on your liver
and pick
their teeth
with your
bones

and how

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