Shattered

This is the magic bottle you used to forget his name, 
mix it with diet coke in that broken yellow tumbler.
Sip it, swallow it, and feel it in your veins. 
I swear to you, this’ll make your night funner.
Because your cheeks are pink, your feet are light, 
you’ve talked to everyone, you’ve lost your mind,
and you’re dancing to the Strokes on a Thursday midnight.
You’ll wake up in the morning, only to find,
that you’ve remembered nothing but what you tried to forget. 

This is the friendly bottle that felt like your only companion,
but the nameless one surprised you with a greeting you never expected.
But never mind that, keep going to the finish, you’re a champion,
Because this night will prove you’re better off if you’d never met him.
But, be careful, Mother is sleeping on the couch, 
Creep quiet in the pantry, grab it by the neck, hold your breath. 
Then, find an empty purple fast food cup, mix it, drink it down.
Night’s all fine, but you slipped out of your mouth just not something unsaid,
But stomach vile that burns you and the rest of your night. 

This is the fascinating bottle you used when you didn’t know what to say,
to strike up a conversation that went close to no where.
Watch it go, watch it stain, have it with a bottle of red Gatorade.
You hate it, just say it, you’ve developed an aversion, but you refuse to share.
Plug your nose, just do it, feel your face go warm, you’ve done it again, you intoxicated mess.
You said too much, so you say good night, let the conversation die.
But you can’t sleep, you feel the vile come up, but you stand up and feel the room move.
You walk to the bathroom, but you can’t go all the way.
Collapse on the floor and sleep the night away. 

Days pass, you’re fine without your bottle, it’s sitting alone where it always does.
But today, you can’t remember his name because he’s getting farther and farther away.
So you turn to your friend, your lonely bottle, but all you can get is a buzz.
Drink it straight, but it’s not the same, the state of mind, the state of sobriety, the friend you thought you made.
You sit alone, everyone’s awake, but you’re scribbling circles on an empty page.
And he never calls. No, he never calls, he doesn’t even know you.
You don’t even know him, you can’t even know him, farther, farther, farther.
This time, the bottle didn’t work, you couldn’t get all the way under.
Oh, you give up your dear friend, like your dear friend gave up you. 

Because this is the bottle you thought you don’t need.
But you need it.

This is the bottle.

And you can see the bottom.