My Night of the Long Knives

I arrived at seven and was home by ten thirty

Didn’t know it yet I’d soon feel lost deranged and dirty

The demon allowed me to sleep til 3

Then roared and flung up the mattress and me

I was dying

I’ve been dying for a year and a half

My night of hell and of the long knives

Had nowhere to be nowhere to hide

I bowed in worship of the toilet bowl

I emptied everything including my soul

I was dying

I’ve been dying for a year and a half

Half three then it’s eventually twenty five to four

I called for forgiveness no priest came the door

I’d neglected my tablets and a whole lot more

I was dying

I feared I’d not get out of there alive

I lay sweating and retching beating myself up

Never again over and over became my cup

Then that night sobbing at the foot of my boys bed

Alone and bewildered it hurt my head

I was dying

Of shame. I’d exchanged all the good id done

For two shots of sambuca this apparently what’s to blame

For all my tears and sickness and my shame

A day and a half later I’m still sweating away

I can’t go back here any other day

I was dying

I’m still dying but definitely resolved to stop the crying

2 thoughts on “My Night of the Long Knives”

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