You find me, your eyes knockout-black. I am heavy, swerving through the door. You do not speak. You lift me by the slop of my neck, drop me in front of the toilet. You flip the lights, hook me to the bowl. Wait. I can't feel the porcelain fangs. The toilet taunts me, smiles like it has been waiting. I know you must be swirling red, you raised me to not fall like this. Your down-stare and strict chin bites more than any hangover, rocks me like a ritual. I see no up from here. I cannot face you. I know I have failed. I have not yet earned the dark mark of man.
Him**
Boy, you used to be rainbow-young, rosed cheek, yellow life, too eager to grow up. Baby, now you are whisking in the husk of a bottle, slosh and off-tilt. I am grateful you made your way home. I was like this once. My father turned a blind body to me. Left me swollen and ripe for the bathroom. I will be there for your initiation. Silent as I hunch you off the toilet bowl, watch you atone for your regrets. The toilet beckons you. It wants to lick you with the same crystallize bite it gave me. This is how it's always been. You have passed the test I've raised you to fail. I know you will not face me, curl to the waist of the toilet. This is the dark way to manhood.