Three Poems

I drain myself every night,
the cup on the bedside table
full,
my eyelids stretched
open.

The real reason I dream
is to forget.

I drain myself every night
the glass on the floor
empty,
My hands closed
shut.

The only reason I drink
is to remember.

I drain myself every night
the pitcher on the counter
wasted.
My mouth cracked,
parched.

The second reason I live
is to create.