Hollow

Blood covers my hands, my fingers trembling.
My throat is raw and burns from stale acid.
I am not sure how I got here, panicking,
Standing in the middle of my room, empty.
I close my eyes, not realizing I’ve been crying,
Trying to will the memories back to my brain.
Scenes flash before my eyelids:
Unnerving pain, blackened eyes, screams.
My knees feel weak as I clutch the wall,
Smearing bloody, red fingerprint on gray,
As I retrace my steps as memory resurfaces.
The trip seems ages, my breathing heavy
But the rest of the world is cloaked in silence.
The smell is rancid, turning my stomach over,
As I reached the closed bathroom door.
Fear grips my throat as it slowly creaks open.
The room is dimly lit, lights flickering overhead.
And despite the knot in my stomach, I enter.
I heave at the grotesque form in the sink:
A barely beating shriveled heart.
My hands shoot to my chest in disgust,
But find no pulsing rhythm, no beat, no lifeline.
It is then I catch myself in the broken mirror.
Dried blood staining my lips, mascara tears,
Eyes sunken in, deep violet shadows beneath.
A whiskey bottle lays shattered on the floor.
Reality rushes back to my clouded mind.
I drank too much, blinded myself in grief.
I drowned myself in the living room for hours,
Crying until I no longer felt sorry for myself.
I came here to rid alcohol and demons alike.
I smashed the mirror in drunken frustration;
No matter how much I spilled, I felt the same.
I prayed for release, to spit out my sadness.
I screamed, I swore, I bloodied my knuckles,
But spat out my plagued, rotten heart instead.