poetry submission

pour myself into the bottle
    will its compassion to wash over me
      like a blanket of warmth
        -gentle fingers prying their way across my skin
        the soothing touch it brings to a troubled mind
          in dire need of any kind of remedy
    reason and cause settle to the bottom
      and my thoughts are dragged with them
        'why' no longer matters-
          I'm here now, the past has become cloudy, and tomorrow is unforetold
  you see, its kindness makes me kind in return
    it makes me feel something
      which makes me aware of the world around me
        and in this drunken stupor, I'm finally awake
        I can finally breathe in life's suffocation
          I can care, believe, and even pretend that we're not pretending
            and when sensibility returns
              another bottle is waiting to devour me