Hangover.

Well well well, it seems last night went right to hell! Off to my best liked bar and dressed unto the nines, what might go wrong apart from some speeding fines?

Now I wake and in the mirror stare. What ghastly horror waits for me there!

My eyes are red and one be blue, what manner of things, in the lady’s name, ever did I do? 

My back is full of needling spines, my throat only for sweet water pines. Surely some foul thief has speared me upon a knife of many tines!

I shuffle off, I might be sick, no breakfast shall I risk. I want to remember but I know just that the smoke was thick. I always remember! Damnit it’s my favorite trick!

My hand hurts too, my knuckles ache and shift and swell. Whoever I hit, I hope I hit him well! 

I know not truly what the night did hold yet somehow, when I think of it my smile is wide and bold. I’m pretty sure I kissed a girl and a fleeting beauty in my arms did fold.

Her perfume lingers yet upon my shirt, covered as it is with a bit of rain and a lot of dirt.

Come what pains they may, I think I’ll go again at dusk of day. If only to hear what the rumours of my name do say.

After all, for merry meet and memory new, tis but the price we pay. The drunkard’s due.

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Jacko Steenekamp

To sum myself up is simple. I'm weird.

One thought on “Hangover.”

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