a thirst much awaited
a throat quenched and greedily unsated
i flinch in pain
and let the glass drop from my gnarling clutch
i watch it hit the scratched shine of the sink
and wonder why it does not shatter
as my ribs close in too tight
and i can only hold my sides tighter
until i am released
into pure nothingness
of blankness but not white
of emptiness but not black
only a shudder unfelt
brings forth a feeling of slumber rudely awakened
where black flutters like eyelids
and voices echo from a morning day downstairs
i awake with a smile and find only worried faces
where was i when i was unleashed
intotheindigo 