Not Numb

If I could overwhelm my veins with novocaine

and never feel a thing

never feel this hurt and pain

and the memories that rip my heart,

I would.

But the closest I can get

is chugging to the bottom

of this bottle

that will soon be broken like me

from a rage that overtakes me.

As the glass leaves my fingertips

so does the rest of my strength

and we both crash to the ground

spiraling and cracking

and rejoicing in the fact

that there is company in our misery.

The fog that overcomes my brain

will last long enough to put me into

an unwelcome slumber

that will at least get me through

the tossing and turning of the night.

Like the glass shattered on the floor

my broken pieces will need to wait until the morning

to get picked back up.