Sunday, July 30, 2017

Midnight Medicines



I start

with a sip
and
my glass
refills itself 
when I walk
away,
an empty
bottle behind the bar,
costing me
ten times
its shelf
price.

I hazily and halfheartedly
simulate
sobriety, my squeals
and
haphazard whirling
turns, fooling
only those
whose vision has
blurred in front of and 
behind
me.

Stumbling towards
the bar,
I think I see
a room
full of cartoon
faces.

Then a round
of unnecessary
shots
empties my sad, though glamorous,
wallet
as I tip
the distilled liquid
down
my inflamed
esophagus,
Swallowing-away
minutes of my
life
that I did not really
want
anyway.


--Jessica Gleason