The Bottom Glass of Loneliness

The familiar sting cuts my tongue to the core, 

Nerves tingling in anticipation, 

As vapors run over the bruised skin, 

A breath of white smoke, undulating and twisting. 

The acrid bite of ethanol lingers, 

Numbing and drugging the mind, 

Fibers twisted and tangled like electric wiring, 

Frayed and barely functional. 

The glass crushes between my bloodied fingers, 

Drops of crimson leaking to the floor, 

Like a flower shedding petals, 

The days of its innocence long past. 

The pain is heightened, 

A million razor blades cutting through the haze, 

Embedding themselves in the hollow shell, 

Of a slowly dying heart. 

Humans are social creatures it is said, 

But that is far from the truth, 

As we struggle to escape the ceaseless cacophony, 

Of a world bursting at the seams of despair. 

We huddle inward, bottles clutched lifelessly in our hands, 

As we emit silent screams, 

Longing to be heard, to be seen, to be loved, 

But too afraid, as we fade into inescapable darkness.