Swill

Attempting to quiet the murmur of its misgivings.
All the while creating a smoke screen to overtake the mist.
Instead the only air to receive is in short breaths.
Just enough for dizziness and disarray.
Escape into the mind of another, their voice amplified as text.
All the better to block out the thoughts of suffocation.
Lined with infatuation, but not condemning–
I drink of the cup
Getting ever so drunk and disoriented.
There is no cure for a hangover but time.