sober/drunk
- Reads 559
- Votes 26
- Parts 6
S O M E D A Y S.
The thoughts are so bad, I don't even need the bottle for them to seep into my head. My teeth erupt into snow and crimson trying to stop them. They look like the old Japanese flag.
S O M E D A Y S.
The thoughts only come when my bottom lip is suctioned to the ravishingly green mouth of the bottle. Stupid move on my part. Or maybe it isn't. The bottle kissed me first.
On those days, the bottle and its friends do the job of my teeth. Much more effectively.
S O M E D A Y S.
Nothing happens.
S O M E D A Y S.
Both happen. And the only option is to not have any options.
All Rights Reserved
#34
sobriety
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