Hot tears track like lava down the side of my face.
How could she do this to me?
Are the angels playing ‘Fortnite’?
I need them to see me; to see this travesty.
The pressure is intense. I feel like the Hoover Dam. Plain. Jane. Arms like thorny stems, tearing her apart each time I reach out for a hit of love.
A fever starts to build.
I feel like a slave, but to what, to whom?
My daughter tells me that she’s a turtle.
“I’m blind like a turtle, Dad.”
I tell her that turtles aren’t blin...
Hot tears track like lava down the side of my face.
How could she do this to me?
Are the angels playing ‘Fortnite’?
I need them to see me; to see this travesty.
The pressure is intense. I feel like the Hoover Dam. Plain. Jane. Arms like thorny stems, tearing her apart each time I reach out for a hit of love.
A fever starts to build.
I feel like a slave, but to what, to whom?
My daughter tells me that she’s a turtle.
“I’m blind like a turtle, Dad.”
I tell her that turtles aren’t blind, try being a mole.
Then I go back on the attack.
Or is it the defence?
Am I a mole?
Turtle?
I am certainly blind.
I cannot see a way out of this mess.
The only thing I see is the bottle, like a Siren, screaming sense, manifesting meaning, puking up purpose.
Why is it so difficult to admit that I am wrong? Why can’t I find that grain of truth? Why do I allow my beliefs to blindfold me, and my values viscerate me?
Why can’t I take responsibility?
Full responsibility?
100% responsibility?
And that’s what we talk about during today’s podcast.
The Truth About Alcohol
We Are Not Alcoholics, And we Refuse to be Anonymous
Join Us & Our Community
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