Disinhibition

She pulled herself up

out of pooling liquor

spilt on the floor

from hours wasting away,

consuming and

being consumed.

1, 2, 3—

Pour another

for today,

pour two

for tomorrow,

and fade

into oblivion.

She put one foot

after the other

stumbling away,

pretending to be a good soldier:

shoulders back!

legs straight!

march!

She drowned once again,

sinking one foot

into pools of liquor,

temptation to feel

disinhibition —

left behind.

But one turned two,

and here we are:

wasting our sorrows away,

pulled in by

the promise of more.

She will find paradise

at the bottom

of a bottle;

and hell

in the early

mornings after.