I took a breath and then a sip followed by another.
relapse laps the edge of my tongue and I can't think straight
can't see you straight anymore too much liquid not enough courage
seems I have found the edge of sanity at the bottom of an empty glass
it has molded me into a glass half empty type and I have been exposed
wallowing in the cold chill of empty and unfilled and wanting more
I had hoped things would get better and I would walk away clean
but ***** is all I have ever known and clean has never been me
it seems disheveled is now my own personal personality trait
it has tipped over the glass and I tripped over this idea
that better is a place I have known before, I haven't
this is an accident, it paints a picture of myself
and it spills upon the garage floor
makes me feel like
this progress
is regressing
I sip it
pour it
sinking
into
who
I
wasn't
supposed to be
here I am again wallowing
inside this blueprint already made just for me.

seems that time is a silhouette birthed from commodity
the clock paints me into sands that turn glass
the heat is too much on most days
and I melt under the pressure
and I break continuously
into pieces
fleeting
grains
of
sand
marking
my words and counting
all of my minutes until nothing
is something once again and I see the light
and bask in all of it's glory as it mocks my progress
and the clock is turned around, I have run out of time it seems.