The empty glass

Of all the parties you spent,
glassy-eyed and ghostly,
Lost in the orbit of familiar faces,
staring at empty glasses,

Those fixed people circling you,
you feel like its your world,
The bubble view contorted.
Warm coffee and warm hugs embrace you and you know no one had the childhood they wanted,
So maybe you're trusting them a little more,
 and making campfires out of flashlights.
You wonder if nihilists pray before they go to sleep, because you,
an atheist do.
You let those sharks drain your white blood,
Into empty glasses,
And take you places they label home,
Worn out luggage, cracked ceilings, white powder on the walls, and a neon sign that says "f*ck you".
So aesthetic!

Jimmi Hendrix playing guitar on the wall,
like paint drying on a piece of toast,
the perfect time to talk about podcasts,
narrated by cats
you drown yourself in every conversation,
Like bees drowing in honey,
the deadliness of sweetness,
the following tootache.

They're not hopeless
They're just coping,
They tell you this a little drunk, in less time than it takes to finish a cigarette.
They take you out in the rain,
and make life feel like a drink,
Pouring out of empty glasses into empty glasses,
You run your fingers over empty glasses,
glasses emptier than yours.
And realise,
EMPTINESS HAS A MEASURE.