Some Days Even Water Gives Me a Hangover

But here I lean swigging black beer
listening to colleagues diss cocaine and curse
and reminisce about the binges of yore

every drink
hardens my silence

they scream magic names
clown to music that isn’t there
and roar at the same joke twenty times
holding their hourglass heads
sick with glee

I understand
why we’re running,
the sickness of the reality we hail from,
but this all seems like such dreadful waste
I wish
I could shake us awake

for it’s not too late
we could still turn this battleship around

but if we don’t act soon

it will rain knives

our blood, signed by the cosmos,
will be baked into burnt cakes

and the survivors will build houses in the trash

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