In a cup; death

and I drank it greedily. It promised murder, contracted by the drinker to the drinker. It promised me. Damnit, it promised me. Liar! Angerily, I slapped the cup to the ground and it shattered. My dreams of quick smiting were shattered still. I bent down to pick up the pieces of my dream -- my wish. Oh, fainting, but just almost. I was weak, fell on my knees then side. I reached out my hand to the shards, slip. My hand pussed a little blood. I tongue lolled out and my head hit the ground. My breath now in short pants. Oh, for one last bit, the drop I see slipping around on the floor. My arm numbs and only my eyes and fingers move. Gasp, gasp, gasp ... I'm breathing less now.

My eyes are closing, opening, closing ... not really blinking. My mind is flushing away. If only .... if only death. Surely his cloak is dark, black, like my vision now. I can hear me breathing, now only thinking. I hardly know my voice. It ...
isn't ... th ---------------

In moments, life begins again and I am whole; flesh and bone and I breath in the air. I painfully sit up and see the shattered cup. The drop of liquid -- thin near-death for cleaning and droplets of my blood. My hand is still bleeding, I see it pump with my beating heart. Oh ...

It's a struggle to stand, but through tugging on objects and a desire ... I stand again. I'm dizzy as I pan around. I'm, not sure who I am, but I know this place. I see the table, the floor and a bottle. The bottle with a happy label and happier contents. I pick up the bottle and slosh the keen liquid around. I set it down, my friend and tap it lightly. "Death? Are you in there my friends?" "Yes", was the reply.

More steps, more steps across the floor ... the table. I collapse into a chair. Oh ... I hurt, l ike a man shot with a thousand arrows. I don't ever want to stand again, but I must. Push .. push ... push ... I lean against the table. The world spins and I wait for it to slow. It slows but continues to twist, turn and spin. I bang my way back to the bottle. In a rare feat of coordination, I carry with me a coffee mug. I don't know if it's empty.

Clump ... the mug finds it's way to the counter. In a sloppy move, I hit the glass by mistake and the lovely sinfuly drink spills, but none in the glass. I panic and pick up the bottle but it spins away from me. I sway and can't move fast. Flash! An idea comes ... I put the mug under the horizontal bottle. With luck, I tip it and mulled poison fills the cup.

Dear! Cup in hand, I fall onto my butt with a thud. I'm splashed, but much of it is in the cup ... mug, I no longer care about words. The world is spinning, twisting and I don't know my name.

My word is that a good drink!