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Perfect Garden

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the ice in the glass shifts as it
slowly melts into the beautiful caramel
colored whiskey
with each sip a warmth holds me
like a fur covered glove
lulling me into its safety
from the icy winds that bang at the door

no dream ever brought me such pleasure
no dream ever brought me such hell
within the confines of my mind
i slip back into the nightmare
the heat of the whiskey drowning my brain

memory of a story once told to me
when all the world was a paradise
a story told to me as a child
when it seemed all were children
when school bells rang and we
danced out those prison walls
we were told of a garden of splendor

we danced and sang at the expense
of truth we laughed to know that we
would be there soon
at the expense of a lonely child
nothing mattered but the collective
at the expense of a lonely child
nothing mattered but the doctrine

nothing mattered but the old man
at the soap box
he was not there for us
he never was there for us
but all we wanted to do was play
all we wanted to do was laugh
in sanitarium hallways and
sarcophagus rooms we stood
heads hung low
looked upon by sadistic old men with sanctimonious
venom in their eyes and hatred in their bones

we were kids
our minds were only as ripe as our age

the whiskey in the glass has been drowned down
the ice just tiny shards of what used to be
i pour another drink
i drop the ice into the glass and
the sound it makes breaks my heart
soon that perfect garden
that paradise waiting for the blind
will be floating in my head as i lay
down to sleep
the whiskey sorrow and memories
washing me into a perfect paradise 

Comments (2)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

I really liked this. I like the descriptions of the effects of the whiskey most, followed by the issues brought forth, although i'm not quite sure what they are.

Neilisgood
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

I am thrilled to have come across this piece. I have a couple of pieces where I try to capture that sense you've nailed completely. Disillusionment is only tempoararily assuaged by liquor, but we come back to that temporary state, because it's...

I am thrilled to have come across this piece. I have a couple of pieces where I try to capture that sense you've nailed completely. Disillusionment is only tempoararily assuaged by liquor, but we come back to that temporary state, because it's better than nothing. this is one of my favorite pieces I've read at hennen's. Thanks Brandon.

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Alberto
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