even though there's nothing left in the bottle, it is you that feels empty, transparent, frail, like an eggshell that your mother found in the chicken that your father killed, that didn't have the chance of the frying pan at least.
you drank it all. alone. no Juliet around, no Shakespeare no talent, no tale.
you drank it all. alone. no strippers, no angels, no thieves!
you drank it all.
some may call it messianic delusion syndrome, but I call it.. cheap Chardonnay.