Etoh Poem by Tanner Istace

There is a tick in my stomach.
There is a god in my throat,
An ambitious angel in my mind.
In a Society that pushes and congratulates and condones

My hand shakes with the rhythm of my nerves;
I feel the lactic acid in unused muscles left
to neglect, but not by my future self;
I move but I didn't and I think but I didn't and I,
I slept when I shouldn't have and I breathe when I want to stop.

A mind that wandered wonders those that that that, That,
That Shakes with the Rhythm of my Nerves
and bathes in the ethyl organic compound with a bonded hydroxyl
of my past
As 1,1-Diethoxyethane belligerently slurred from my oral cavity;
But I don't remember the intense stimulation on my sensory receptors,
but that,
I inflicted it myself,
So I drown myself with renewed vigour,
in the Past.