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Jammit Janet Jul 8
#61
Educational hangover
You rewrote my internal story
Switched around the dialogue
Kept my life anything but boring

Educational hangover
You got me drunk on knowledge
Faded on grades
Homework stacked
Books for days
Brumous Jun 25
If one can be drunk on love,
I'd rather stay sober
than having headaches
and the wretched pain
of a hangover.
I don't drink, alright.

edit: I changed hungover to "hangover," it was surely a typo since I needed to copy then paste it because the 502 thingies kept happening
Left To Rot Jun 12
My body is just as exhausted
as my mind, at the moment
I did this to myself
and I'd do it all again.

Walked miles and miles
for a lost cause,
for my fragile pride,
for days long left behind.

A hammer continuosly hits my skull,
I'm being aggressively whipped inside
by the consumption of my own beer,
by the consequences of my own night.
Lewis Wyn Davies Sep 2020
Today, tiredness
has strapped itself
to my ankle bones.
I'm walking upstairs
with adult weight,
dragging eyelids open,
nudging consciousness
still lying in the road -
desperate to drive along
that towering bridge
and back into

last nite, the strokes
of three, four and five
passed me knowingly
like a former lover.
Grudges were embedded
long before the peak.
There were teeth marks
left in breeze blocks,
street signs stolen
as the town went under.
Down a park slide,
we deep-dived life.
Climbed theatre roofs
to discuss our plays.
Threw our shoes,
plus socks, in frost,
before settling on home.
American video calls.
Empty cereal bowls.
Maybe six or seven
goodnight smokes
with a slumped hug,
voicebox croaked
during the final tokes

and I'm under covers -
today, tomorrow.
There are crumbs
on a camera lens
and fingerprints
smudged on mirrors
hidden behind a face.
I'm not coherent,
feeling anything
but God, this Sunday.
Poem #2 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. This poem is about wild nights and the sense of achievement that lingers the following day... despite the fatigue.
Jamie Jul 2020
First hangover post lockdown
I don't think I've ever felt more alone
Maybe it's the hangover or
Maybe I finally I can say it

I don't know if, I would have felt
Any different if we had lockdown together
But you gave me everything
And I took you for granted

Maybe I would have noticed it more
All the things you did,
How you gave have me your heart
And you were always there

I don't know where you are
How you are
But I hope your safe
I hope you are happy
GirlScout Jul 2020
There’s a knot in my throat,
as I frown
These shakes could have another meaning.
My jaw clenches as I force myself
To reassemble dialogues in my head.
Self pity is despicable,
But not as threatening as the self doubt
That wraps around my clouded memory
And squeezes my chest, in shame.
Disgust at uninhibited reactions
Expressions of false confidence.
Although I wish for nothing more than
To retract, erase, repatch
Gauged open wounds;
I need nothing more than
those I fear I've hurt
To heal my shame.
Andrew Crawford Dec 2016
Diaphragm expanded
like the cigarette burns on the empty wood floor
from when I left the mattress there and didnt care anymore,
started laying down beside the beaten, weathered boards;
these decades in the grains of timber grew towards-
I lie inert, my bones the weeping willow's withered roots now stretched forward
to sunlight creeping in the windows through daybreak's drunken disorder.
Dehydrated, tormented, and long tortured;
regurgitations reemerged, restless, pushed shoreward-
dysphoric dreams; no rest beneath intoxicated border.
Michelle May 2020
I thought it was over.
But with a big heave,
My internal sailors pull at the intestinal sail
Trying to right the ship.
Gravity becomes stronger
Down down down
I'm over over over.

                         Make it stop.
Man, I am so sorry about this. I hope you can forgive me.
Kvothe Apr 2020
Delirious morn
Scornful of the rising sun
Someone, water, please
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