He stumbles through the night,
the world spinning,
but he’s too far gone
to care.
The edges blur—
streets, faces, words—
nothing holds still,
and neither does he.

His laugh is louder than it should be,
a hollow sound that doesn’t fit
with the quiet darkness around him.
He reaches for something to steady himself,
but it’s all slipping away,
his grip, his thoughts,
even the cold air on his skin
feels distant now.

The bottle feels like a friend,
something warm to hold
when everything else is frozen—
a temporary escape,
a numbing of whatever hurts.
But he knows, deep down,
it’s never enough.
It never will be.

The night stretches out before him,
full of promises that won’t keep,
and he keeps walking,
keep drinking,
because there’s nothing else
to do.
And somewhere in the back of his mind,
he hopes the blur will be enough
to drown the ache,
even if just for tonight.