By Benjamin Shapiro 

Sunlight filters through 

Empty bottles on the sill,

World turned green

After drinking my fill,

Head pounds with 

Hangover and regret,

Yearning for life

Beyond being wrecked, 

Tears and tearing hair,

Shakes and screams

This is not the future

From childhood dreams. 

Promise to stop, 

But bottle lies next to bed,

Just a swig

To clear my head. 

Clarity won’t come

Through liquid fire,

Angry at myself,

So very tired,

And I rise

To fall again, 

Bottle in hand,

And it won’t end. 
With bottle to mouth

It never ends. 


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