who's gone there?

I'm dizzy again from the drink

I stagger to the close
And then stand for a while
Hovering between consciousness and dream
Leaning on the entry

How many times have I been here?
And who's gone this way before?

My father, my grandfather
My forgotten kin

Do I hear their low, drunken mutters
Their aimless curses
In the cold, February air?

Or feel their dead hands gripping me,
Guiding me in this endless
Reel of self-abuse?

I lurch forward again
The moment lost to me
The need to urinate and sleep
Tipping me home

© 2006, Alan J Stuart

[Tagged as Poetry]