Monday, February 21, 2005

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