Bottles
one, two, three,
Bottles.
One in my hand
two on the floor
three in the fridge.
My sanity held together
by little bottles
glass tinted brown.
NPR,
no possibilities radio
every morning to inform
to depress and misrepresent
those who it was meant for.
Every morning
I find the bottles
of elixir left
from the deppression
of the night before
I wish for something
more.
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