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,
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.