Without a drink in my hand I foresee disaster

I don’t remember how to act without a drink in my hand
It is Easter I have been hiding all year
Dread
What if I give in and have just one beer
What if I turn defensive and impatient or worse still bored
Bars, pubs, clubs
Alcohol, alcohol and more alcohol
My social skills are corroded, eroded
Practically diminished non-existent
I have a plan stand in the corner and scowl
Find a dark cavernous space and howl
First time sober when all around me inhibitions deteriorates
I will be consumed with envy surrounded by the tinkle of laughter and camaraderie
Dread
Without a drink in my hand I foresee disaster