Last night, when I was drinking,
I reached over with my right hand
to touch the rim of my glass
gently and feel it's frosty rim.
With it's help I could draw
perfect circles for the first time.

I had unteathered the beast which was my imagination.
And so, the glass flexed and bent and became my bracelet
which frankly I didn't care for so
I reached over with my other hand to free myself.
The glass cuffed my other wrist as well.

Then the glass cuffs turned red. Maybe everything else did too.
As I tried to pull my wrists free,
all I could think about was the fact
that my head was my heart: beating and hurting
and beating and beating. And as if breaking free
would shatter the shackles of this glass, I raised my joined hands
over my head and brought this hammer down
to smash the silence and my keyboard.

And the glass, which was on the table
and not on my wrists at all, jumped
and fell over the edge.
As it landed it shattered the rhythm of the drummer
in my head and all I could hear was the word
"freedom".
 
 I woke the next morning
and was greeted by the smell of pine
which I found odd
because I never buy trees for my bedroom.

Then I recalled.
Then it was clear
that this glass of gin and tonic
was the reason why my head felt
like an open wound
that Mikey was poking.
That glass also was why
the scent of sticky pine cones
was deodorizing my room.
When I woke
I had a stiffness in my neck
that made it hard to look left
at my computer.
There was no pine tree
by it, just a broken glass and 2 lime peels
in a puddle of re-melted water.