Friend.

I look at these strangers around me, 

faint giggles and jokes.

I’ve known them long enough for me to realise I don’t. 

Suddenly, they fade with the wind, and I’m alone in the room, 

alone with a glass before me.
The curtains let the sun kiss the alcohol in it,

and the bottle shies away.

With my head resting on the table 

and my hand stretched out, 

the perfect drunk, 

I watch the friend I tend to rely on, 

when I have no way with my mind.
I down the drink I was but, supposed to enjoy, because it’s too much to take. My mind is wandering off wildly, and it’s not an adventure. It’s a suicide trip. 

I feel my thoughts suffocate me, 

I feel the silence, the emptiness turn into a rope around my neck,  and I open the bottle, 

consume my cure entirely, 

trying to find transitory liberation.
The last drop of alcohol mixes with my blood 

my eyes turn heavy with the weight of the unsaid and unexpressed, maybe the high too, 

they close after a long time of being ajar,

and I’m finally relieved. It has come to a stop, for now.
Until next time, fears.

Until next time. -WANDERER // E s c a p e s 

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