The peeking sunlight
cut like razors through
my pounding head.
The aftermath of tequila
emanated from my breath.

Some strange woman
wearing a red butterfly necklace
was in my jostled-bed,
she appeared dead.

A box of half eaten donuts
was on the table,
popcorn was scattered
all over the floor,
the door was ajar,
LaBamba played on repeat.

My feet hurt like hell,
it felt like every toe was broken.
A scorpion tattoo crawled up my arm
as the alarm clock blared.

Jesus, it was a bad morning,
but the night looks
like it may have been worse.