Let the liquid descend into his mind,
into his blood stream and into his heart.
"Make it intense, bartender,
this time is the last that I want to remember,"
he slurred through a broken smile,
that hid a broken body
and an even more broken past.
Unable to think
and most definitely unable to comprehend,
he slurred his last comment of the night
as he fell into his abyss once more.
Surrounded by memories that burnt like shots of 151,
he did the only thing he knew how to do.
He hid his own spirits
with spirits of a different nature.
He rested his head on his hand,
elbow on bar,
and guided the spirits into his mind,
into his blood stream and into his heart.
Tomorrow would be a new day,
he'd wake groggy and forgetful.
Who knows,
maybe he'd kill off a few brain cells
that hold what he doesn't want to remember.
But one thing is certain,
he will start all over again
and end up in the same gutter,
with the same memories haunting his confused mind
and broken body.
 
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