Crush the raw cubed sweetness,
in the bottom of a glass.
Wet it with a tincture of sorrows,
fashioned from the brine of your grief.
Gently part the rind,
slipping the skin away from its ember heart.
Twist it,
demanding its fragrant perfume.
Drop in a crowning crimson gem,
just one.
Flood the glass in firewater,
force it to dance with ice's glacial grip,
as you swirl the crystal highball,
chasing the spiral of your thoughts.
Imbibe deeply,
as a thirsty earth would drink the rain.
Repeat when empty.
Then repeat again,
until your vision
and the edges of your soul both blur,
'til your heart is replaced with fog,
every feeling reduced to vapor-thin voices,
and even your memory
is swallowed whole into the black.
Repeat until the world dissipates
and you evaporate into the ether.