Bourbon waves, tequila skies,

champagne clouds, and whiskey highs.

formed the landscapes of my youth;

even drowned some sorrows with vermouth.

Grottoes of gin, and scotch on the beach,

led to shores of schnapps, their flavour: peach.

Sobriety seemed boring, and lacking appeal,

although so many memories now seem surreal.

Red wine roses, Cabernet trees,

Merlot mountains with a Riesling breeze,

convinced the cure to my endless pain,

lay at the bottom of each bottle, in vain.

Fields of lager, rivers of pale ale,

streets of rye and ginger-ale,

often had me stumbling, slurring my words,

still, I returned to this wasted water world. 

Rum rain-forests, and cider shrines,

sake blossoms with liqueurs so fine,

I should never have chased these alcohol dreams,

that destroyed my liver, and my self-esteem.