Pounding head as I lay in bed,
Unaware what time of day it is,
Glazed eyes
As I fantasize about what happened the night before.
****, I'm starving.
I stagger downstairs to the kitchen,
Fixing myself something to eat that is far from ordinary,
I take a bite and my stomach churns,
It burns my throat.
No, that's it, I'm going to be sick.
The toilet waits with open arms,
Calm, collected as my head hangs in the balance,
Between humiliation,
*And the personal survival of a brutal and savage night beforehand.