I'm like an alcoholic but my addiction is in the reverse
because instead of emptying bottles
I spill them down my pale white arms
and the liquid isn't made by anyone but me,
instead of being clear alcohol it is thick and muddy red.
My purple veins that twine themselves underneath
skin stretched across bone
are the bottles for the liquid I crave
and my addiction is to shattering those bottles
so that I can see their contents
spill out on the floor
as my vision fades to black.
Black outs bring mornings filled with regrets,
not from forgotten memories -
because there is nothing that can be forgot -
but from not shattering enough bottles
and keeping too much liquid inside me
so that my eyelids slowly open
instead of staying closed.
Like an alcoholic I crave that liquid,
wanting to drown myself in that muddy red
by releasing it from fragile bottles
stacked on top of brittle bones.
They say that they don't understand my addiction
because they don't know how someone can reverse alcoholism
on their own bodies -
they don't realize how it is the same -
I want to forget everything and fade away:
my liquid of choice is merely spilt across pale white skin
instead of emptied from bottles into empty stomachs.