The Bottle


United States
30° 27' 28.9836" N, 87° 13' 1.344" W

I can smell it from miles away, drawn to it like a shark to blood.
My mind empties as I hold the bottle,
My lips touch the glass as the world disappears.
I cannot do it anymore,
Everything begins to fog as the poison trickles down my throat.
The girl I was walks out of the bar and the worst version of myself stays planted on the stool.
My soul empties with the bottle and I become just a body
My life darkens before my eyes
Why suffer when I can feel nothing
The body I have become tries to fight back, I quiet it with more poison
I’m going to die this way
A sobering thought quieted by still more poison
There is no hope waiting at the bottom of the bottle.

Guide that inspired this poem: 



I have 5 months sober now, but there was a time when the content of this poem consumed everything I was.

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