Her drunken smile and watery eyes fill me with new rage like the gasoline and ignition of a used automobile. Start me up and let me down. These false beginnings and trademark endings are becoming too cliche for me. There are lies in her admitions and fire in her eyes. Watching me crash and burn like her broken childhood. Grasping the tattered dresses her battered youth wears so well. Holding on to any shred of sanity and the cool, long neck of a bottle. Drowning in hopless explanations and pitiful excuses. The crimson liquid engulfs her lungs as she chokes on her disbelief. She knew. She must have known. Watch from the sidelines. Unable to save her and unable to care. Far too bruised and beaten down, she weeps. Her last grasp of humanity is receding below the glass.