His long road home

A dear friend of mine is an alcoholic. He has a beautiful family. Has a successful job. He possesses strength, a sharp mind, health, and is well like by many people. Within the harbours of his soul lies the enemy. It waits until all is still and no one is looking, then grabs his mind with the illusions of power being in the bottom of the bottle. It calls him by name and smoothes his poor attempt at restraint. This bottle barks out the orders of his life, his emotions, his decisions, and causes him to become the man he hates every morning. Yes, he justifies his release. He provides for his family. He doesn't run around with women. He takes the children to school in the mornings. He chases trains down the track from a life that can't come back. He lets the horn blow and the wheels cut into his heart causing life and love to be lost. He sits on the branch in the tree, too scared to climb down. He would need to know why he got there and could he be safe once on the ground. His fingers and teeth ground down from the gnawing of a spirit half empty. His eyes blurred and reddened from whiskey each night. His gait seems to be heavier with each passing day. The day ends at 5 and then the whiskey waits to steal him away. Each time I can hear him reason with the demon in his past. "You don't have me really, I don't need you to last. I can fling you away into the darkness of the night. I'll let go after one final sip. Just a sip not a gulp. Just a taste not a meal. Just a moment while I feel the burn as it slips down the track." The demon begins to smother the light that once burned. Fire ripped through this man that I've known. Instead of the coal that was once heaped into his mind, water, tainted water, put out the glow. You'll see him tommorrow as he passes on the street. He's dodging that monkey waiting on the corner. He'll pass him one time and maybe the next, but the monkey will not move, cause he knows that man will be coming back.