On Alcohol

Hit rock bottom? Hah! There is no bottom, you sad little vertebrate. Your backbone won't save you this time. Keep spiraling down and down and down and down until you can't tell up from down. It's okay, poor creature, I understand you. Our hearts have that same messy, warm embrace of a seething abscess. Our gaze is a windswept paradise.

I've tried to find the limit,
The line,
The capacity.

Lo!
The sheer quantity
Required to make me slur,
Let alone sleep,
Could kill a pony.

There is no limit,
No line,
No capacity
But for the broken heart
Of a whiskey still.


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