you strangle me
 for hours, for days
   for another episode
  of  your emotional
    wrangling  of ideas.
   you  choke  me,
  you   hold   me
 on  the   neck
 where  you’d
  usually  touch
  me and linger
  me to sip, lick
 w h a t e v e r
you  can  get
  inside  of  me,
 you   quench
  y o u r   o w n
 t h i r s t, without
  knowing  that you could
  actually  make me hollow inside
and  you  chose  not to  acknowledge
that  ‘coz that would break  you, and
that  would  make  you  hate  the fact
that  you  are  now  on  the  verge  of
drinking  'til  you ­ drown  your  mind.
Honey,  you have lost all  of your safe
defenses  and  you’ve been nowhere to
be found. The scent of the *** is now
circling in the room. And like how  you
manage   to   pick  yourself  up  to  get
another   one to pop,    you are able to
light   another  stick  of  that  cigarette
that’s been on the table for two weeks
now. My  alcohol is making  your head
spin as of this moment. What now? No!
Please stop! After  you’ve caressed me,
now  you’re  going  to  throw me on the
wall? Are you crying? Oh, honey, please
just calm down. It is okay,  I understand.
I know the  feeling  of  being empty and
it feels like hell. Oh, sure, just put me on
the corner of the room. I am ready to be
forgotten  for  another  week  or so now.