Inside The Bottom Of The Bottle

It is hard image depths deeper than the bottom of the bottle, but I can see them through the glass just before it shatters and you fall further down than I imagined you could drop. Bren, it breaks my heart, yet I feel helpless... how can I soften your fall?
JJ

Truth in the trust of this piece .. hugs dear Brenda
✨Trish

Swill and spit poetic tragedy! Love it!

until daylight hits    
and the world is screamin    
like a whore who's not been paid    
   Omg!! Lol!

Last line brings it home
You seem to have a penchant for gang banging us at the end
It works !!!

Great entry

X

gotta find redemption wherever it lays, Crim;
I heard those whore screams,
but I always paid...

Yup! Sorry to say I've managed to hit the bottom of the bottle, not a few times in my life, but many. These days I am content with two glasses of cheap California burgundy just before bedtime.

nice simile to wrap up a fine poom finely describing
that 'state' we find we disfortunately create upon ourSelfs

Poetic tragedy, alcohol sweats, and the stink of despair, so descriptive it nearly broke me to read it.
Amazing job, Crim...

My Beautiful Brenda, as always you leave me looking up at you...you will forever amaze me lovely one and be held in the highest in my heart and my eyes.

I love you so much!

xoxo Taryn

Damn, Brenda. You are such a testament to perseverance.  Your writings are going to be road maps for those who follow in your footsteps one day.

That final stanza could wake the world.

Some days that sounds pretty damn good, lol.
Some days...

Great write, my crimsin friend ^^

Another raw and honest write, dear Crim!

swill and spit poetic tragedy    
crawl in the bottle hope to drown in it > that stanza took my breath away as did your last!

Great write!
Love, Duende

Brenda.. so true.. the bronze waters, are tranquil for a while.. i like you, lust their numbness, and so called knowledge.. till i have to come up for air, and experience the depression and resent.. but i always return to the liquid mistress.. because i fear losing my fire, and my ability.. it sucks sometimes, to be a slave.. i totally get this write.. into my list it goes.. i love you!!



Dave

How you can make the heart hurt with your images...and then make me giggle with that last line.  It's a gift, I tell you.  (I'm woefully behind in comments, so expect a plethora of them shortly.)  Many hugs, Brenda  :)
Willow

a stunning piece, touching base will all emotions - you are a master of words :-)

Wow i think anyone who has an alcohol problem can relate to this. I love it .
It hits hard and you can really feel the pain.

I feel home sick, though I never wish to return. This picture I know.  
Maybe, we were neighbors?