Amber Waves of Pain

I made my bed on an ocean of glass shards floating upon the undulating waves of incomprehension; bourbon-soaked dreams sliced open and bleeding life’s meaning, though it really depends on how hard you punch the veil of reflection. I fell face first into a wall of glass. Left with scars beneath my skin, jagged slices of nothingness to rub my blood stained fingers over in that pain-filled comfort where drunkenness sometimes seems like a good idea. There always comes a point where I think I can stumble along, the darkness isn’t so dark; the demons aren’t so scary, right? It’s time to get off the merry-go-round someone spliced to a rollercoaster, only I forgot to notice ‘cause I was too busy going ‘round in circles. It’s like breathing in asbestos that’s slicing through my lungs so hard I can’t breathe, can’t think, and can’t be! Pain has never felt as tangible as right now; I’d do anything to make it stop, anything to go back and find fermented heaven again. But it keeps hitting like seven years bad luck with perpetually bloody knuckles. While I deliberately forget about the glass shards imbedding themselves in and under my skin until I’m at risk of bleeding to death, more glass than human.