I feel like I'm spinning,
Everything is lessened,
I see myself thinning.
I sip from the bottle...
Pressure gets increased,
Deeper as I sink,
Gritting my teeth,
In my armor, another kink.
And sip from the bottle....
It is so hard to see tomorrow,
Looking through the thick glass
Ofan emptywhiskey bottle,
Full of liquor, I still feel hollow....
Too unbalanced to move straight,
A slow and unsteady pace,
What do you see?
I see a failure,
I can't stand my own face,
Alone in this quiet, dark,
And frozen race.
I slip in a bottle....
© Copyright 2016 Tyrone Slade. All rights reserved.
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