I raise my glass to my face in thought. Evaporating from my mind, I, in oblivion: the paramount essence.
The essence of what?

I think.

It escapes me.

I think.

The quintessence of something.
Of what?

I think.

It's obvious; so obvious, I forget.

Inside us. Our soul. Our weight. Our character. Our being. As mortals.

The bosom we feed from; we need of.

I poor from my glass like the thing escaped from my mind.

I wonder.

I traverse my halls into the bathroom.

I cleanse myself. I'm tired. I purify everything about me thirty minutes in thought.

That night I sleep in thought.

I wake in the morning, my face has a funny sensation.

I touch where my head laid.

Wet.

I remember.

Water,

spilled from my mouth in waste, rushing to get away from my abuse, but at the same time evaporating in the heat of my arrogance and superfluous use of its greatness.

Water. My life.