the statistic of one.

it's 10:13 PM.
I've been
here
before.
I know this story
like I know the back of my hand.
I've always known you
too well
to ever love you.
there is more truth in that
than anything
you've ever said.
I'm drunk again.
and on edge.
just like those times on Main Street
when I would break dinner trays
and put holes
into the walls
and break window panes
that I always promised to fix.
I would say I never knew what came over me
but I did and I still do
and I feel that self-destructive
rage
that only I could feel.
they say that only those with little
respect
for themselves
destroy themselves.
that's undoubtedly true in every case.
except mine.
the mighty and the savage
are divided by
a line.
I crossed that line
long ago.
a lifetime
is a long time.
I know this story
like I know the back of my hand.