I remember racing down the streets,
intoxicated, drunk, hammered,
and out of my mind,
chasing party after party
and skirt after skirt trying
to drown the hole you left
in me.

I remember, not so long ago,
chasing down scheme after scheme,
saying mean things,
having no consideration for
anyone's feelings,
and completely denying the
existence of my own,
trying to justify
the holes we left in
each other.

It's hard to understand —
how I'm acting,
the damage I'm causing
in these situations —
until I've come out the other
side.

And even when I do, I still hear
the dark calling me.
It lies at the bottom of this bottle,
and at the top of my
mind,
waiting its turn.