Alcohol

The front door opens.

He enters. Home!

Straight to the fridge.
No welcome.

The sound of the first beer bottle popping

Glugging sounds as the liquid flows

down the throat not even touching the sides.

No breath is taken. Finished.

The mouth wiped. Belch.
"Want a drink ?" I'm asked.

Hell its still not happy hour yet.

"How's ya day been?"

Same as usual.

Trying to budget the cheque book.

Anger rises and the stomach churns.

Have to make do without

but the vices still stay.