hangover

since this blog is organically becoming a personal poetry stash, here's another recent piece.

the hours we have abandoned
before the sun arose this morning
are creeping through the gaps
between our minutes. this time, they decided,
blush-faced and cold-handed,
they will not remain the guards
of what we yesterday called home. no,
they will take their toll on this
pale morning, when we fall out
of our beds like corpses.
the sequenced movement of
past night still echoes in our conscience.
our bodies betrayed us, they
grew old before we noticed
the blood stains on our linen.
now we stare, dead-eyed,
into the white of our windows,
as the hours gently squeeze us,
our mouths dry and our limbs trembling,
and every option of oblivion is
lost.