Old oak tree

I lay under the old oak tree.
The rain has soaked me, but I remain laying.
My thoughts stray to unseen places,
but all appears clearer,
under that old oak tree.

The clouds, getting lighter.
My mood gets brighter, as the sun
starts to peer over what was just darkness.
My mind still lost, seeking a cause.
Suddenly my heart jumps,
so I pause. Then remember motives
for going to my old oak tree.

Hand to my chest,
a quick pat for reassurance.
Flask still there, quick few sips,
I've earned it. Going down it burns,
now my thoughts churn.
Everything's getting fuzzy
at the old oak tree.

Empty bottle in the bush.
Booze in my belly, brain barricaded.
At least I made it home, all alone
in middle of the night
and no one one approached me.
Splendid success, sauce has been ingested.
Drunk again, at the old familiar oak tree.

The tenacious terrace tested,
by the weight on my shoulders.
I'm perplexed by intoxicated perspectives.
Every waking thought less sane then the last.
That's why I slow my racing brain,
using the alcohol content in my
flask, afraid of ever hoping for
more than doping and drinking.

Now the knives are singing
songs of Satan's sirens
and the air is choking me.
Woe is me,I wish I had never followed
that alluring smell of misery
down to that wicked, soul sucking, mind numbing, oak tree.

Thanks if you read it all. Might be some mistakes since I just kind of wrote it as it came to me. I was trying to mix it up.