Distorted Priorities

My words are slurred and my step is not so sure,
for all I did was drink a bottle of elixir to cure.
Now I feel strange, sleep but not yet awake,
for in my confusion I feel I have made a grave mistake.
My tongue is loose and I let the insults go,
My God I see I am putting on one hell of a show.
I can see all the chaos I have fueled in sight,
for I laugh, as I duck out of every little fight.
If they only knew I am really not this bad,
for the liquid I have taken makes me this confused lad.
I am hit by a fist, fueled by ego or liquor which ever is in rule,
And fall down to my knees asking why he is this cruel.
He smiles and kicks me in the temple where I lay on the floor and hope to die,
my small sounding voice only asking him why?
Again the sound of leather hitting flesh turns me on the floor,
and a short time later I find myself flying out the door.
The rain washes away the blood that has mask my face,
and I am in shock that I am still in this place.
I crawl to the sidewalk and lift my hand to hopefully get a ride,
back home to my hovel where I take my wounds and hide.
My distortion dictates my walk and leads me half way to my bed,
I then stumble and fall closing my eyes wishing myself dead.
I awake the next morning alcohol and blood is my only taste,
and I think about last night and understand it was a waste.
My knuckles hurt my belly is to sore to eat,
and nine more hours of light and I have to go on a church retreat.