Poem: Punch Drunk

You know it’ll hurt,

When you tell the tale,

Now then, too,

But the bruise sting—

That’s more the fail,

Got into a fight,

Drunk as a horse,

Got into a row,

Fight like its forced,

Seeing un-straight,

Slurping bubble brain,

That much vodka,

Never a-fucking-gain,

A swing and a miss,

On toes made of soup,

Too much there,

And down into the goop,

Of vomit and piss,

Yours is fine,

A loose spin,

Acid burp brine,

Headaches all the time.

You swore you’ll never drink this much,
Can’t go downing a bunch,

But punch drunk you are,

And punch drunk you’ll find,

A special place in hell,

For those who can’t even make up their mind.

Lost a fight to the liquor,

Lost a fight to the mob,

Lost a fight to your fucking job.

When the weakness is there—

A drink to make you not care.

And on the floor,

A hangover is only fair.

Special thanks to: Melissa Potter

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