Saturday, March 11, 2017

vodka tonics

these birds outside the window.
busy
with their world.
chattering
amongst themselves.
they care little that I lie
inside
still in bed,
the cotton
of vodka
still in my mouth.
I feel the drum of my
heart
going up the vines
of me.
water, aspirin, a hot
shower
and a vow
to never again, drink more
than one
or two
strong drinks, upon
my lips.

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