Drugged-Up and Dying
The familiar burbon warmth
crept through each vessel,
slow and hard the burn-
turning me out from the inside.
I closed my eyes
and braced for impact,
I always fall hard right here...
Long tendrils of silky-soft hair
framed my porcelain face as I
lowered my head in defeat.
I'm clean on the surface
but stained like church glass underneath,
a wrecked consequence
of this beautiful life
that is ominously cursed
with the promise of death.
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