Empty bottles of coke
faithfully littering the floor around my
desk, bed, anything they can lay their hands on.
A naive combination of sleeping pills and energy drinks
On my nightstand,
patiently waiting in anticipation,
for their next chance at tempting me into submission,
the poor man's deviled eggs with a side of Hennessy.

Ah, how great it would be,
if the lonely bottles of water by my television
could possibly purge me
Or, maybe, offer a Depression-era baptismal service
So I can find my peace of mind,
as another bottle hits the floor.