At a steep angle
the bottle does glug
The glass fills fast
with awe I gasp
Stops my worries in their tracks
a salt line to a slug...
A taste of freedom
down my throat
Worries jettisoned
my sacred medicine
Temporary isolation
just a tidal moat
Why are we here?
I don't remember
The summer gives way
to the misty mornings of September
Early dementia...
Who are you?
At depth I yearn
for bioluminescent blue
You feel the dark cold?
I feel it too
An old write.