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Drinking alone.
I looked,
one eye closed,
in my bottle of wine.
Inside there was other eye, darker than mine.
I realized that is was my own eye in the reflection of the crimson liquid,
but i got scared for a second.
That other eye
there was like
a real reflection
of my soul.
Eyes are the windows of the soul,
they say.
But through the reflection in the wine i could see deeper into that window.
Darkness.
Bloody darkness.
I saw despair.
I saw lust and madness.
Fuck you
and your attachment to lust and madness.
They’re not pretty.
I felt that if i stare any longer a bloody hand from the depths of hell would steal my eyeball.
I’ll drink this bloody hell in a bottle now, before it drinks my bloody eye.
