Oblivion in Recession

The following piece has its origins in the dying days of January 1993. The punctuation has been altered, for instance, commas inserted in the place of semi-colons and so on, and it has been heavily edited, with words, nay whole passages ommitted from the original draft, and other segments removed, and then reinserted in areas of the script where I felt they better belonged when I set about preparing it for the eyes of the world through a process of aestheticization and versification.
I originally penned the piece as a means of recording for myself the events of the few days in question, and while I cannot avouch that it does so with a hundred per cent veracity, I believe with all my heart that it is a singularly faithful account, may God forgive any involuntary inaccuracies.
The incidents themselves initiated on Sunday the 16th of January 1993, and lasted for several days, and had been preceded by a peripatetic week of near-constant intoxication, during which I nonetheless managed to work and socialise in some measure. This latter week had itself been ushered in by a late-night collapse on my part in an Indian restaurant in an outer faubourg of south west London, the consequence of many days of temulence, and which saw me being taken outside into the fresh Surrey air by two or three Indian waiters, one of whom set about attempting to shock some life back into my prone body by repeatedly flicking ice cold water in my face, while urging me not to give up or something of that sort, presumably because in the first instance I'd been relatively unresponsive to his efforts. Finally, however, I made a miraculous recovery, and was driven home by a close friend, one of two companions I'd been blithely dining with at the restaurant, before asking her whether I looked as bad as I felt, she replying somewhat worryingly in the affirmative, before I got up from the table, walked a few paces headed for who knows where, ultimately collapsing as if stone dead in the middle of the establishment.
Within a couple of days, my drinking had resumed its inexorable course towards disaster, and ultimately led to the events depicted in "Oblivion in Recession ". They marked the end of a period in my existence typified by a furious thirst for intoxicating liquor, which could have despatched me to oblivion at any time. The Bible makes it manifestly clear that a confirmed toper can go to sleep on any night of any day of any week, and never awake again in this world. But thanks to God, these selfsame incidents were sufficiently terrifying to me that I felt impelled to reach out to Him to help me through them, at some stage as I recall promising the Lord that if he permitted me to survive them I would belong to Him forever. I have been true to my promise ever since making it.
There have, however, been several relapses of drinking since '93, in the shape of short-lived binges, and a single period of several weeks during which I unsuccessfully attempted a full-blooded return to my old ways. Ultimately, I became unable to drink even a single glass of wine without feeling extremely ill. Thence, as things stand, I am a hundred per cent sober.
Coming to a state of teetotalism has not been easy for me, any more than has my walk with God in general, and I have had to pay for the way I behaved prior to becoming a Christian, and in a variety of ways I intend to write about but not during this piece. God saved my soul, and the sufferings I have undergone since coming to faith in the Lord Jesus Christ are as nothing compared to what would have awaited me had I perished on one or other of the days during which the action of "Oblivion in Recession" takes place, and of which I might add, I had a strong sense of, an intimation of, especially whenever I closed my eyes, and the contemplation of which was so terrifying that I would not wish it on a single soul.

The legs started going,
Howlings
In my head.
Thought I'd go...
Kept awake with water,
Breathing,
Arrogantly telling myself
I'd stay straight.
Drank gin and wine,
Went out,
Tried to buy more,
Unshaven,
Filthy white shorts,
Lost, rolling on lawn,
Somehow got home.
Monday, waiting for offie,
Looked like death,
Fear in eyes
Of passers-by,
Waiting for drink,
Drink relieved me.
Drank all day,
Collapsed...wept...
"Don't Die on Me".
Next day,
Double brandy
Just about settled me,
Drank some more,
Thought constantly
I'd collapse...
Then what?
Fit? Coronary?
Insanity? Worse?
Took a...
Paced the house
All night,
Pain in chest,
Weak legs,
Lack of feeling
In extremities,
Visions of darkness.
Drank water...
To keep the
life functions going...
Played devotional music,
Dedicated my life
To God,
Prayed constantly,
Renounced evil.
Next day,
Two valiums
Helped me sleep.
By eve,
I started to feel better.
Suddenly,
All is clearer,
Taste, sounds,
I feel human again.
I made my choice,
And oblivion has receded,
And shall disappear...