i am not the bitterness of glass touching my tongue,

but i still live inside of the bottle.

i am not the shot glass i slam on the table,

but i am the body on the kitchen floor.

i am not the one partying and laughing with friends,

i am the wreck begging them not to follow me.

i am not the serpent hissing its way out of my mouth,

i am the quivering soul that seeks shelter in the plague.

i am not my addictions,

but i sure as hell am not me.