Hand Over The Keys

Visualize standing more drunk than hung-over.

 

Where are you Sober?

Where have you gone?

Come closer.

 

Shaking-sweaty palms, while we deal with numerous qualms.

Words couldn’t describe this wooden enclosure and the lack of sunlight exposure.

Worlds of shrouded mystery, over and over, all lacking closure.

 

All uninspired and motionless, hanging in the distance, thinly outlined in grey, symbolizing stay awake and stay away. 

 

However:

Hot flesh toaster, stomach on a rollercoaster, I must be a damn sorry sight.

Cold shakes, cold sweat, what did I do last night?

 

There is a pinprick need for water indeed.

Not want, need.

Not want, need.

 

Dry eyes-red.

A sip and I feel liquid flood in.

 

Led to shed tears, I need you near.

Thoughts of dread.

Fix my head.

 

Remember what she said.

 

Tell me again.

Tell me again.

 

Gone like tomorrow.

 

She said she’s pissed at you while you wake in her bed.

Fucked up again.

 

I almost always forgot.

Waking from a blacked out state with a stinging headache and gut-rot.

 

 

 

 

The upside-down reflection on the surface of the spoon feels true, except nothing in the room moves.  

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