broken, awash in wine

for the last six evenings i have generously sipped half bottles of wine. That might not sound like much, it barley sounds like anything to me, but the 110 pounds of flesh that are left inebriated ease right into the listlessness of intoxication. 

i told my father on Wednesday, but he seemed not to hear me. i thought about repeating myself over the phone, but he changed the subject.

my brother saw the picture of my swollen leg, the other of my mangled shoulder 

others call (or worse message me on facebook) to express sympathy, but they are not outraged. they are not outraged. they are not outraged and I need them to be outraged.

my leg looks as though it has been run over, and it has. my elbows, knees and wrists ache from the impact of falling, the impact of being struck repeatedly. 

i was unable to understand what was going on. my hands were covering my face and i could not see the four police officers bodies over mine. i could only hear  a women yelling they are hitting her, they are hitting her. 

now i am broken inside, awash in wine 

isolated in my anger, isolated by sympathy

with a submerged broken heart and still no one is outraged.