My eyes open to a room
filled with blurry shapes,
creeping shadows.

A distant car horn
sounds three feet away.
I jump, chest pounding.

Vibrations begin
from deep inside,
spread to hands, fingertips.

I lay still a moment, on my back,
hands folded over my chest,
breathing, staring at the ceiling.

My sodden brain itches
with black whispers
of inevitability.

I sigh and roll over, reach,
trembling fingers touch plastic.
Uncap the bottle and gulp.

Throat burns red
as lukewarm *****
fills raw emptiness.

I retch, hand to lips.
Another swallow, easier,
creeps through veins.

Liquid embrace
soothes every nerve
silences the whispers.

I sit up in bed,
look at the clock.
Work in a couple hours.

Drag myself into the shower,
brush teeth, scraping
white fuzz off my tongue.

Stop for a bottle on the way in.
Stare down as the clerk
slides change across the counter.

I think I’ll make it today,
but how many more like this,
and where does it end?