Liquor.

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.