The compromised daylight still pours into the white Chevy where a rifle sits passenger- there will still be whisky on his lips when he walks into work.

Her body braces like she has rigor mortis to the sound of her morning alarm after a night of writhing to the bittersweet taste of ******* drips.

He seeks solace between arms and hips and lips and skin, which never satiates his ache for only her.



Time is a parasitic hangover, leaching from our highs and the small passing moment of brightness we seek all our lives.

Even if you cancel all your credit cards, make love to beautiful strangers, sleep in the streets, find yourself in Europe, lose yourself in your career, curse your parents for your own faults, write poetry to lovers you never had, seize every day every second every moment, join a cult in the backwoods of Northern California, donate your retirement to your church, torment your veins until they collapse into craters, visit your grandma religiously every Sunday, smoke ****** off of tinfoil, sleep eight hours a day and always take the stairs, drink Black Velvet you've hidden in the basement, bribe God to love you on Sundays and threaten him on Mondays. Even when we wait, even when we consent to waste away Time's a slow-creeping hangover already crawling up your spine and seeping into your brain. You won't have time to ask her why all she does is take. It's already too late.

Tequila kisses & ***** thoughts,
Hungover love shines through tired eyelids of mine
Drink, drank, drunk, on liquor, on each other.
Punch drunk love, is not real love.

I know you're my hangover love.

The barista doesn’t look
you in eye anymore.

You’re wearing that blue checkered
romper from the night before,
the one that leaves little
to the imagination
of the scholarly humans,
all up before the ripe time of 10.

And now it’s noon
and you’ve slept through
3 phone calls and you’re not even sure
if you’re bank account will allow
for the $2 iced coffee
you’re about to **** down.

But you buy
all the overpriced
caffeine anyway,
because today’s a new day
and if you stop moving
you might notice the wound,
and the pain,
and start to bleed,
and realize its going to make
a mess so maybe
its time for an Irish exit
and leave.

The town still drips
with last nights alcohol consumption,
effervescent with AWOL brain cells.
Romance viewed from the inside of a glass,
vanished in its absence.
Neon bar signs became the stargazing
of the twenty-first century
and hangovers a fast burning cigarette,
leaving romance to pile
in a duotone of grey
in the ashtray of our heartless society.

I Disappear in the crowd of dancing people
The music is loud while I walk through the corridor
I am outside now, the first breath of fresh air for hours
My legs are hurt and my head are dancing with stars
I walk without saying goodbye, I just walk
I stand so sleepy watching the turn of the street lights
The sunrise in the horizon and I'm waking
My body has recovered but my head still hurts
but it's different from last night, cuz today
My phone rang and I got social hangovers

I drink wine before water
It’s better than beer.
Neither are like *****
They’re nowhere near.
Like beer, you can
Drink all of it you please.
It will never knock
Your life to its knees.

What? You say no?
You say they are equal?
This is a bad movie
I don’t want a sequel.
I have lived my whole life
Thinking wine is okay
And not contributing to
Alcoholism in any way.

I thought I could drink it
And party like a king
And the specter of addiction
Didn’t mean a thing.
Yes, I admit I ignored
Those drunks and hangovers
That woke me up feeling
I’d been hit by a Range Rover.

So, okay, maybe it’s real
This threat to sobriety
That is so accepted
And approved by society.
But now I have to find
A new way to celebrate
That won’t ruin my life
At some not too distant date.

It takes a lot more than a month and two pounds of **** to get over someone you really had feelings for.