Looking Glass Got in my Eye

How do I change myself?

Take out the shard of glass that entered

In my body last night

When the bottle broke

And my heart spilled from the decanter

From which I was sipping

Dry as the sunlight of the following morning's dreams

To which it hurt to blink my eyes open

Stung to fix my gaze in the looking glass.

This me, this alcohol of the ages

This dream, this kaleidoscope of wrongs

This constant wrestling with sanity,

This effort to tune the lenses steady,

To which another morning staggered and croaked back;

I tried in confusion to detox myself off the glass

That stung somewhere in my memory.

Rummaging the sunlight for clues, 

For a map amid the pages of din,

The map of what I lost.

I did not find it.

Only the glass pricked through my eye

And last night's mattress spoke of its lumps

Like beautiful, un-swallowable grief at the throat,

And while I wrote, I further postponed 

The trail of thoughts that lead to the heart of the crimes, 

To the many deaths that made me,

The many pages shrivelled and abandoned

Like stories simplified, and unfinished

Sentences - we fear, we change into something else.

How do I change myself?