Heavy bodies push
the table’s edge
as they sway
to the music.

Pleasant murmurs
of conversations and laughs
buzz in my ears,
pick up volume
with every passing millisecond.

My burning fists.
They clench
with anticipation
and tension
as the lights dim low.

Cold glass pressed
into my hand,
iciness sending currents
of apprehension
through my veins.

A pool of light
shines off
the gleaming bottleneck.
Glow glints off the rim
into my expectant eyes.

Trace the wider bottom,
run my fingers up
the glossy surface.
Grip the cylindrical top,
grasp the trembling
bottle.

Empty my mind
of all rationality
and inhibition.
Lift the grail
to my lips.

Acidic elixir
flows down my throat,
thin and eager
as blood –
stirs
every dead cell,
invigorates
every nerve tendril
in my being.

But lights start to flash
like panicked police cars,
faces morph
into those of monsters.

Stenches suffocate
the air around me,
noise escalates
into a thunderous cascade.

Brace myself

for another swig.
But the magical shock
of the potion
awakens a shred of reason
that whispers into
my consciousness, asking

“How will
another drink of this fantasy,
or rather, nightmare,
enchant,
or rather, poison you,
if already
your blurred vision,
your shaking hands…”

All movement
slows to a halt,
all odors fade
into sameness,
every sound
dies into silence
until only stillness
remains.

Tighten my clutch
on this cursed urn
before I release.

Drops
through the air,
viscous as blood,
hits the carpet
with a thud.

Its fiery sheen
stamped out,
Dull bottle blends
into the dark floor’s
abyss.

Sunk to a place
where no illumination
can reach it.

Liquid trickles out.
Swells
into a pool of
nothing
but a black, empty stain.