I still feel all the vigors
And my mind is still sore
But my heart is too frail
To feel anything

I still hear voices at night
Or maybe it is just the sound
Of your voice
Sweetly calling my name

I still feel those chills
Or maybe it is just the longingness
Between the spaces
Of my fingers

I still look at my walls
As if my sight can strike against it
So steady and deep
With the sharp thoughts I have

I cannot tell  what it is
But if there is something
That makes it hard for one to breathe
That is exactly it

We all get it
Hangovers
And the worst ones you get
Comes *when you love

Drinking cider
Late into the night
Then homemade *****
By candle light
Seemed such a
Wonderful idea

Until today

Alas I fear
My pile of paper
Will not shrink
The ***** dishes
Are still in the sink
The washing machine
Is far too loud
My head is firmly
In the clouds
The morning has
Just run away
I really wish
That I could stay
Curled up in bed
With nought but dreams
Navel gazing
In the sunbeams

Such Bliss......

But alas
I know I should
Move my ***
And get on
With things mundane
And really try
To engage my brain

Maybe

Just one more cup
Of coffee - black
Will wake me up
And some tunes
To dance around
Just in my pants
That pumping sound.....

No more of this
Up up she cries
I shall conquer
No compromise
In just a tick
Just one more minute
I'll will get up
And get on with it.....

And yet still
I'm here upon my bed
Making excuses
Just resting my head
And writing rhymes

But that won't do
Right
She's up!
Phew....

(C) Pixievic 2016

Dulled senses, aching
Haunted by last night’s fumes
Dark eyes darker, despite
Shades reflecting daylight
Red eyes in the morning
Drunkards warning to a
Dawn tinged with regret

Not the bitter kind, no.
Far from it actually.
Maybe it is the eye of the storm
Or the silence after the closing credits rolled up,
I will never really know.
In this vortex of mixed signals and miscalculated worst-case scenarios,
I know I am supposed to find a way out of your world
And force myself to walk on desserts
Or swim through rivers just to be safe from your shadow.
But strange as it may seem,
I have just managed to run away a little and now I stop.
The ignition on my feet is not responding, the chords were cut from my brain.
It did not consume me enough.
I could not taste the blood from my punctured lips.