I stare through the half

empty glass of tequila

resting nicely on the side of this porcelain bowl

its golden appearance shines

but disturbingly distorts my vision

casting a floating image of my surroundings

through its glass prison.

I choose to free it of its sentence

tossing it back and holding it on my tongue

in its rage it burns my throat as it does its job

I look through it once again

only to realize I can’t see anyways

or feel what it was I was running from

babies in more than one way

or feelings of wanting babies

what difference does it make

right now I don’t care if I ever see her face

cause I can’t feel anything more complex

than take another drink

I will

I lose my head and drink it all

only to wind up wanting more

I can’t find the bottle

I stumble through the house, tripping

on nothing, the floor is clean

Tequila distorts my view

crashing into bed I collapse into endless sleep

that ends with an early rising

and now I can feel again.