JINN IN THE BOTTLE (Poem )

After the first sip from the bottle
I decide to continue on
To the next one and the next one
Until my sense of being escapes me
As I ooze through keyholes
And drinking straws;
Spill myself into sidewalk cracks,
Bleed on gutters and sewers
And pitched-blind oblivion ...

The Jinn in the bottle
Released into my world offers
Foggy unsteadiness instead of
Sought after comfort;
And like a house of cards
Victim to vertical rows of falling dominoes
Leave me like Humpty-Dumpty.

Lost days and weekends
Like unattended roses wither
As if placed in vases filled
With ashes and acid
Against crumbling tombstones
In unkempt cemeteries.