I try and scratch you from my memory
but every time I drink
you seep back into my peripherals
like the cracks in my old coffee mug
you drip
and drip
and drip
until I can ignore it
no longer, but I am not
without my own weapons
to fight off the memories
the terror is always here by my side
telling me what i need to hear
and I pay attention to it
and I drink, long and powerful drinks
letting the alcohol pour down my throat
feeling the poison stir in my gut
and feel the sweet euphoria rush to my head
and then suddenly, I am full of purpose
I have things to do
and a great black sky to scream at.