I have 5 bottles lining the walls of my heart

 

Their names are mixtures of contronyms

dredges of adulation, malice

just a sliver of delirium

 

I’d like to boast that they’re all for decoration –

just like my half witted remarks

my freckles that connect like those

constellations you so often observe

 

So highly speak of

 

Yes, I’d like to say it’s all an elaboration

– just like this smile –

a face to hide the one that you meet

 

Yet we all play hand in hand with each other

 

Those same hands that

carved memories

into every brain

they were able to latch onto

 

It’s a fickle game of

Russian roulette, with me and my bottles,

considering none of us really ever wins

 

I never win at anything

 

Anything at all

 

What a funny little game, isn’t it?