Drink.
Problem slowly fades away.
Drink again.
Problem grows twice as large as it once was.
Drink once more.
All events are now mere illusions of the past.
Wake up.
Empty bottle.
Past is now history.
You’re now hanging on the edge of your future.

Scared.

Sober.

And desperate for another bottle.

As you drink,
Drink,
Drink your past away.
I color by number my future and history,
Rotting away in the same old prison place,
The same old cellar,
Full of every reason
I sit petrified,
Full of every bottle
I despise,
Full of every bottle
You once held.
Full of poisonous toxins that I dare not smell.



The essence of the strong fluid
Surrounding me in a hopeless chamber
Of acrylic wine
As I rot away in the same old cellar
Dying quicker-
Than time.