Slow Learner
I hate mornings after!
My mouth tastes
like aManhattan
sidewalk
and my head
throbs with
every beat of my heart.
My mouth tastes
like a
sidewalk
and my head
throbs with
every beat of my heart.
Mornings after
are a time
for inventory,
counting and recounting
the drunkenness, debauchery,
and stupidity
that define
my social life.
are a time
for inventory,
counting and recounting
the drunkenness, debauchery,
and stupidity
that define
my social life.
Mornings after
smell of spilled booze,
stale cigarettes,
and the perfume
of cheap bar girls
passed out in the bedroom.
smell of spilled booze,
stale cigarettes,
and the perfume
of cheap bar girls
passed out in the bedroom.
Mornings after
sting like a ruler
across the knuckles,
wielded by
Sister Barely Tolerant,
correcting me in ethics class.
sting like a ruler
across the knuckles,
wielded by
Sister Barely Tolerant,
correcting me in ethics class.
Mornings after
serve as a harsh reminder
of what excess can lead to.
Somehow those lessons
never come to mind
on nights before.
serve as a harsh reminder
of what excess can lead to.
Somehow those lessons
never come to mind
on nights before.
SMG
Posts
4 comments:
I feel ya!! ;-)
Love it! Here's mine http://thelunaticsdiary.blogspot.com/2011/01/awards-and-dreams.html
If you have a twitterm come follow me (MsMatsui)
I don't miss those mornings at all! (back then i wasn't a slow learner...maybe a no learner ;)
This may be the first poem of yours that made me laugh,
eden
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