The Bottom of the Bottle

I'm at the bottom of the bottle.

Lipstick smudges on my forehead.

Bruises on my shoulder.

Everything spins.

Like a quarter on a pool table.

Like a penny in a homeless man’s cup.

The world is spilling around me.

I don’t know how to make it stop.

All the faces and days blend together.

I see vodka.

I see wine.

I see my cup filling itself up for me.

I am at the bottom of the bottle again.

I am binge drinking again.

I am blurring away my reality with booze.

There are people to meet,

And conversations to be had.

It’s all in a drunken blur.

I am numb to everything around me.

I don’t feel anything anymore,

And I like it this way.

Life is one big party when you are in your early 20s.

I wanted to be the life of that party.

I drank because I could.

I drank to drown the demons.

I’m now laying in a bathtub.

I remember those ceiling tiles from my youth.

Small pale blue squares.

I feel half dead.

I am numb to the things around me.

There is blood under the water.

A quiet surreal feeling.

Then a light bulb suddenly breaks,

Shattering my reality.

Making me realize I have an addiction.

This poem is featured in the poetry collection "Passing Skeletons".

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