The bitter-smooth at my lips again,

And the anguish swallowed and bursting into my stomach

Like fire spreading through my veins.

This nightly ritual is bound to kill me

I can no longer say I miss you

Because once again I have you

But I still feel the loneliness and the anger closing in like a tiger

Consuming my whole being.

When I wrap my fingers around the glass

And begin to pour liquid happiness in the cup

I feel more powerful, more in control

Because I’m out of control.

The room begins to blur and the keyboard becomes much too small

And much too large for my fingers

And I end up becoming honest with everyone but myself.

My emotions come in bursts like Uzis raining bullets through the sky

And I feel more at ease

Just grasping that glass

Because I know I’m doing something about the indescribable

Anger, and sadness, and self-loathing, and doubt.

I cannot make you stay faithful to me

Nor can I trust your explanations, why you do the things you do,

But I sure as hell can trust the lightness in my mind

And the distraction from my heart

When I pour this bliss into my red plastic cup

And begin to drown my emotions in Jim, or Russian water, or the Caribbean.

This nightly ritual is probably going to kill me.

But each time I hear your name

Or think of you

Or think of the past

My hands start to shake and my body tenses up

And I get out this glass bottle

And start to pour

And pour my troubles into this cup and out of mind.

Even as we speak, my fingers feel clumsy

And my eyes cannot adjust to the words I’m trying to say

But at least I don’t have to believe you

Have to think of you

And that is good enough for me

Even though this nightly ritual is going to kill me.