i curse the morning

a post-drinking rage.

the morning hurts.
i curse the sunlight
and all those pretty beams.

needless to say,
i'm hungover.

my balls hurt.
sex was a mistake.
but then again,
so was marriage,
so i guess they make
a nice little
couple.

and goddamn mrs. thompson
upstairs in 203
won't stop whistling
and watering her
lush and verdant
little garden
on the balcony.

i grab the bottle of
skunky beer
lying between me and my
fat wife
and take a
sip.

Reviews

[Miss Fox]

Oh, the third stanza says it all. You have the ability to weave satire of the common man that ranks along with Mr. Twain.

[Blue Moon Ice Cream]

You painted a vivid scene that was simultaneously funny and revolting. I would hate to meet this guy....although come to think of it, I already have, minus the wife being fat.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Lovely, never had a night like that before.