The glass is full.
Clear liquid bids me draw close.
The smell corrodes the air.
Making nostrils burn,
eyes water, the scent becomes,
increasingly tantalizing.
A wish the day had gone better.
A wish life had substance.
A wish I could fulfill something.
A wish everything in this letter mattered.
A wish my words were as strong,
as this vapor now enveloping me.
Destabilizing embrace,
warmer still than that of those…
Whose memories scarcely linger.
Whose hearts emerged unscathed.
Whose minds asked few questions.
Their tears will flow freely.
Their moans will be heard from a distance.
Their screams shall break glass.
Pain will bore them.
Memories shall fade from time’s sterile hand,
with great surgical skill.
Time infects bodies with tumors.
My deepest affection to all.
Heart not jaded.
Set free from this curse.
This sickness is not me.
The earth shall not hesitate upon its poles.
Nor the moon fall behind in drawing tides.
Desire a slave?
Search one out.
I will not be found on my knees,
marring myself with groveling pleas.
So I sit here in darkness.
No companions save this soliloquy,
and this glass of caustic spirits.
To think, they thought me,
irrational enough to do such a thing in haste!
Enjoying the fragile smoothness of this glass.
Begin benign slumber.
Filling my mind.
Making uncertain moments pass.
Altered for better.
Course of one little life.
Garnered no virtue.
So enjoy my isolated altruism.
My fate.
My trap.
My point of origin.
Returning?
Join me in paradise city.
Where sips of turpentine can be,
for one or or for three.
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