Drowning

Drowning
Not much fits at the bottom of a glass.
A world full of portholes.
It's like only ever seeing yourself from the waist up in a mirror,
reflections are all smooth and blurry lying bastards,
but then you go and find a full length mirror
so there's nothing to hide behind.
I couldn’t identify who that was if I had all night and pile of flashcards.

Light gets sharp, brightness cuts and shatters.
Squint.
Peering into a mug
the world is a vibrating haze of pilsner and lager.
Through the glass you could say everything you always wanted to say
Being here is like forgetting to breathe.
You ask yourself how hard can it be, I almost never think about it
Should be easy to forget the things you never think about
Like the rest of the soft-edged person frowning into the mirror;
the rest of the person not enveloped in currents of stout and pale.
It’s the portions you never let yourself think about
Always there – they are the hardest thing to forget.