Wednesday 3 September 2008


Blind drunk we each seek to find the answer in the bottom of a blind bottle. We draw blades across our skin, searching for a meaning drawing out the pain. You don't want it to be over but you don't want to feel again.

Broken hearts are broken bottles; jagged and raw you ride the see-saw. Your emotions run high, your motives run low. Till drunk broken bottles drink pink sober skin, red blood wine drips down your knee past your shin. To the floor.

Temporary respite in the knitting of the skin. In the scar silver thin. In the blood red whine, creeping slowly down your shin. But the bottle found empty and the bottom found bare. There is no discovery, there is no answer there.


Anonymous said...

It's been many years since I had a broken heart, I think.

I drunk two bottles of Jamesons that night and ended up on the beach screaming abuse at the sea. I took my shirt off, I remember that and I lost it somewhere.

I suppose in some ways, I think I'd never want to go through that again. But maybe sometimes the risk is worth it. Sometimes.

I hope you the feelings you describe in this post stay in the distant past and never darken your future.

I hope your heart can mend itself enough not to be aneathetised and find answers where they really are- wherever that is.

Anonymous said...

Most of us have been there done that, some of are still there... sometimes the nothingness is all we have, and no matter how much it hurts, the pain wont stop.

And in some way, we dont want it to stop. We have grown so accustomed to it that we cling to it. But you have to move on - you have to let it hurt. Thats the only way we can heal.

But for some pain, there is no cure. Ppl say times heals everything, but I'm still waiting.

.. and so are you, it seems.

Anonymous said...

I think the title sums up my feeling about the whole thing. When I drank, it was for the temporary relief from mental anguish that could only come from comfortable numbness. Even the physical pain of a hangover was welcome, in those situations.

Anonymous said...

reminds me of a beach in st. lucia, a year ago, pining for the one i left behind. when i got home 3 months later we broke up. there were some empty bottles that year.