Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Your Father's Son


1
One foot in front of the other,
Step by clumsy step I plod.
Signs blur. My eyes straining to gain
Clarity.
2
The world sits on a tilt-o-wheel.
Darkness surrounds me like closed eyes.
Afraid and Inebriated
I trudge on.
3
Succumbing to sickness I throw
Up and down I look
Searching for anyone to help:
Fun house mirrored faces.
There’s no one.
4
Covered in vomit I lie down
The grass like nails
On my skin. Alone and lost I
Accept death.
5
Through cracked eyes the brightness of day
Shines on flushed cheeks.
Sober yet hung-over, I rise.
Who am I?

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