Here he is. Fluctuating between God and wine.
What has he become? What monster has he become? He needs peace of mind. He can't find it anywhere. Oh where should he go? To what should he turn? Wine or religion? Has he become so low that he has lost it? He was always sure of himself. Always. Yet now he stands nowhere. Yet now he is lost. Has he stooped so below the ground that he has become materialistic? This materialism isn't giving him what he needs. He needs peace. He needs solace. He needs satisfaction. This madness. Oh this madness!
(This is a fictional piece of writing with no connection to anyone I know.)