You’d think it’d burn when it goes down.
A dark shot of the unknown lost amongst an above average placed bed, slightly away from the wall, with the odd itch of a scuttling ant unaware of it’s degenerative nature skirting along the dirt stained coverings of an above average apartment parading as a home.
You’d think that with a shiny appearance and an engaging idea like “drink me” it would bring something new to that immature idealism of a youth spent so far away from the world.
It’s bottle perspiring, a drab attempt at catching attention, desperate, a lost hunger for the inacti..
Don’t think about that, remember it’s not so bad you have your eyes to see, your mouth to taste, your nose for desires and your touch to remember.
Don’t you see, why worry about those things there distant, a problem for another day another time, another life…
I look at it again, it’s been a while hasn’t it? I mean I’d remember right? It says right there drink me, how could I forget?
I lift it up and smack it too my lips, ahhhh now I remember it never burned did it? It never asked, never wanted, never expected nor judged, it was itself, it was me, it is me
I remember how this felt,
I remember this taste,
Wait, who am I?
It doesn’t matter.