Get off my chest

Silence sometimeS swallows,  
the small sounds I do make.  
My frustrations can consume  
the happiness that somehow  
leaks it's way into my dark cave.  
 
Each days potential, being flushed  
away, along with vomit and whiskey.  
The few thoughts transcribed,  
are about time wasted on broken vices  
and coping about time spent away from my drink.  
 
My mind is constantly a mile away,  
in a car being driven by a mad man.
The car's going somewhere fast,  
the priests warn me it's Hell.  
 
Each morning after my nightly  
three hours of tossing and mumbling,  
I have unwanted hallucinations upon awaking.  
Unimaginable things coming to life  
on top of my bed springs.  
 
I've tried to fix myself using  
fake revelations and realizations.  
But daily epiphanies, leave my mind scattered.  
My skin is starting to feel like  
foreign cloth draped loosely on frail bones.  
 
In my head I swear, I can hear angels singing.  
But the devil still dictates my actions.  
I've ignored so many peoples feelings  
on my path to so called enlightenment.  
Truthfully, I'm not feeling genuinely apologetic.  
Some people don't deserve there second chance.  
Hypocritical people beg for thirds.  
 
But for the first time in a life, filled  
to the beer soaked rim of regrets, I really hope I stick it out.  
I long to be in a time before spooky nights  
spent alone in emergency, hiding tear soaked wrist.  
Wrist stained by curiosity and ferocity.  
 
A time before sleepless nights on the devils couch,  
shaking violently next to the devil himself.  
I've experienced, an emotional journey here.  
I've scraped dropped fantasies, from unswept floors.  
 
But I know going home, will never be the final answer.  
It may cure current ailments, but would start to cook  
new recipes for emotional scarring, unique and painful.  
Almost glad my feet are glued to the lonely road, almost.