Liquid Courage

Recently discovered this poem I wrote at fifteen years old after my first stint in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.

Liquid courage,
From the empty bottle,
Smashed to the asphalt.

Said is what we mean to say,
But not what we felt yesterday,
Or what we will remember tomorrow.

Clumps of sand lay in the throat,
Yet words proclaim their glory.
But not glory.
For glory is of victory
Not of insecurity.

I am insecure,
Broken among the glass,
Scattered to the asphalt.

I do not drink of the cup of Judas,
Nor the cup of Christ.

Still I search myself in bottle where I do not rest,
And satisfy myself with false satisfaction,
Slurping on my liquid courage.