Under the Influence

I drink the sorrow down, but it sticks in my arid throat. Cubes of anguish chink against the glass, cool numbing liquid to quench my world on fire. I get closer to the life I imagine, as I knock back the magic liquid. Shattered dreams cut my throat, and sand flows into my soul. Images in my minds eye blur, no more sharp edges, harsh words soften. Heavy eyes close and dreams come swiftly on winged horses, carrying me to my diluted prince.