Imagine your mind
as a corkscrew
shiny and smooth and silver
and sharp at one end
to open multitudes
to unlock bottles of sweet red wine
and pour it out
for all to taste
to drink wonders deeply
and inhale aromas
but instead you
spiral
until the cork crumbles
around you and
mildewy mulch
falls into the bottle
spoils the wine
with bitter silt.

It tastes like ash now.
Sludge.
Ruined.
Spilled
on the ground.

Corkscrew mind,
how far you fell
how much you dismembered
how wasted your
sharp, yet silken self.