I don't feel anger or hatred. Just the calm rush of blood to my head and the soothe of the alcohol numbing my senses. My tongue, taken over by the release of etiquette, slips into a long rant. Relief welcomes me, like a mother caressing her crying son. I want to complain, i want to destroy, i want to break things. The only thing that breaks is resolve. Empathy, a comfort carved out from the battle scarred mind. A billion unpleasantries raked up at the doorstep of an unstable mind. A bout of insanity ready to take over. Ready to unleash a steady flow of retrospection. Rage, potent and ready like the sword in the hilt, eager to taste the blood of the sacrifice, the trophy, the kill. Memories, piercing, sharp and poisoned with the illusions of happy times. Control, the coward that runs away to make room for the momentary rapture of intoxication. The bottle, a comrade, prepared, by your side, ready to die by the sword for a willing soldier. Feelings, abyssmal, sucking you in for the void that it is. People, a futile pigment of tattered imagination. Solitude, adrenaline, driving the sword through, cutting, shredding, piercing. Sobriety, the call of battle. Relevance, the injured. Irony, vultures in the sky, lying in wait, savoring the devoured. Fate, a creature of habit. Battered minds and numb sickened eyes. Revelations, the foresight that saved none.Another drink goes down the throat. Smooth.Relieving. Inner peace. Somewhere between sobriety and throwing up, lies contentment.
Yes, NOW, I feel nothing. Yes, at first it was a contradiction. On a lighter note, quote unquote,
"Alcohol removes inhibitions - like that scared little mouse who got drunk and shook his whiskers and shouted: "Now bring on that damn cat!" - Eleanor Early.
Yes, NOW, I feel nothing. Yes, at first it was a contradiction. On a lighter note, quote unquote,
"Alcohol removes inhibitions - like that scared little mouse who got drunk and shook his whiskers and shouted: "Now bring on that damn cat!" - Eleanor Early.
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