It hatched, the egg
Last time I was left
With a yokey substance
That only landed me
A hangover worse than
Ever imagined
Last week, though
Oktoberfest
Best idea ever
As the ***** wore off
The notion rose
To a higher plan
Whenever I am drunk again
I should remember
To never
Get out of bed
In the morning

Sinister coughs
haven't approached
as an invigorating threath
whilst reading "The carousel"
in dim lit cyclam softness . .
Poetry is poetry and prose is
Not it!