John Singer Sargent | 1856-1925 | Venetian Bead Stringers | | 1880 – 1882 | Oil on canvas | 55.9 x 78.7 cms | 22 x 30 3/4 ins | National Gallery of Ireland Dublin | Ireland
Perfect Love
From the bar to my apartment goes my car
I feel at eeease on the barstool
I go to the barroom to cry, about how close I am to a drink
and the empty places in my heart
caught off guard, I was seduced by alcohol
it does not get better for us
I’m at the mercy of another drunk to help
I blow my breath in your face
whatever I wanted
wherever I wanted
however I wanted
whenever I wanted
》What would you have me do?
they say, come along with us, this is what we do
it’s called perfect love
freedom, to let you, be you 》
nothing managed me more than the barstool
it burned _ my life _ to the ground_
one drink’s too many, and a thousand’s never enough
I tried to stop, but stopping could not be found
I’ve been thrown out in the parking lot many times
to return from lunch is an impossible task
I’m so bad, they’re not going to let me in
I suddenly disappear — into the blackout
whatever I wanted
wherever I wanted
however I wanted
whenever I wanted
》What would you have me do?
they say, come along with us, this is what we do
it’s called perfect love
freedom, to let you, be you 》
I laid my keys on the bar for another drink
and compromised everything not to feel
never will I experience what could have been
love and loyalty could never heal
I have the same pain as your permanent scars
devoted to running the distance
from problems
problems of living I could never face up to
now I’ve hit rock bottom
whatever I wanted
wherever I wanted
however I wanted
whenever I wanted
》What would you have me do?
they say, come along with us, this is what we do
it’s called perfect love
freedom to let you be you 》
I can’t keep pretending
that I’m in control
with truth in one hand, and fear in the other
the Lord is my Shepherd, he restored me to the fold
§tacy §weeney
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