3 o’clock and I still can’t sleep
Only thing I wish for is dreaming deep
But my brain can’t stop its constantly ticking
I’m not even in love with you, still you make me think

You only told me the sad story of your life
Then wanted to cut your wrist with your key, not even a knife!
I thought I could be your friend and help
But we lost each other and now it’s only my image of you that is my friend

Or more than that, I don’t even know, oh dear
I honestly have no idea what I feel
Even though I always analyse myself, maybe too much
Still I don’t get why I miss your touch

The way you looked at me and knew
That I care about it and I will understand you
But then you said the opposite, now I can’t follow you  
You almost called me a ***** and said it’s my fault
Being out in high heels in the dark and cold

That was stupid, you were right, but see
I’m fed up with blaming myself for everything
I tried to be there for you when you had nobody
You didn’t give a crap about me when I was drunk and lonely

We’re not talking anymore, I won’t even write to you
I hoped it would help if I don’t see you
But it just got worse, you are always there
I couldn’t make you go, you would not move nowhere

getting drunk alone
is something i never thought i would experience

gettting drunk in general
is something i would never do on purpose

but today i felt so alone that i
almost naturally gulped one beer after another

and the warmth that spread inside of me
was like a welcome embrace out of the dark

i couldn't get rid of.

© fey (09/03/20)

Where to start,
don’t know where to begin,
coronavirus has the whole globe scared,
trying to stay balanced as the world spins,

and I don’t drink but pour me some gin,
I’m way down going rounds all in,
want to help the planet don’t know how to save it,
praying for redemption,

black white old young,
discrimination is an illusion woman or man,
truth so bright it hurts the eyes,
in the sun soul got a tan,

where are you at,
before we check out let’s check in,
suicide not an option so what’s the plan b,
pen in my hand is a lethal weapon,

no Danny Glover or Mel Gibson,
just a car with no roof firing pistons,
and if Death was at my door last night,
I didn’t notice and missed Him,

feels like it’s all about to end,
forget a lover I just need a friend,
because I’m not feeling ****** these days,
heck I don’t know if I’m feeling anything,

this is an Ode To Those That Know,
or at least to those that still show,
some sort of emotional intelligence,
anyways whatever hello from the other side it’s time to go,

but to where is the question,
as you sit there staring at this screen,
self isolation world in tribulation,
please let me know if you know what I mean,

where to start,
don’t know where to begin,
coronavirus has the whole globe scared,
trying to stay balanced as the world spins…

∆ LaLux ∆

3/20

Hangovers
by Michael R. Burch

We forget that, before we were born,
our parents had “lives” of their own,
ran drunk in the streets, or half-******.

Yes, our parents had lives of their own
until we were born; then, undone,
they were buying their parents gravestones

and finding gray hairs of their own
(because we were born lacking some
of their curious habits, but soon

would certainly get them). Half-******,
we watched them dig graves of their own.
Their lives would be over too soon

for their curious habits to bloom
in us (though our children were born
nine months from that night on the town

when, punch-drunk in the streets or half-******,
we first proved we had lives of our own).

Published by Barbitos, Trinacria, Songs and Poems that Changed the World (reference.com), Atomic Publishing and The Eclectic Muse

Keywords/Tags: Villanelle, hangovers, drugs, alcohol, drunk, ******, parents, children, graves, death, habit, bad habits, wasted, drink, drinking, *****, liquor, beer, wine, tombs, gravestones, headstones, lives, deaths, pregnant, pregnancy, pregnancies

~A parody inspired by "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost~

Two drunks converged in a crowded bar
And sorry that I knew them both
And be one patron, long I stared
Looking out for each I really cared
As both of them bent I swore an oath;

I helped the one, and deemed it fair
He having perhaps the better claim
His eyes more glassy and worse for wear
Though the other also was passed out there
In reality both wasted about the same.

And both next morning equally lay
In heaps their missteps left them in.
Oh, I wished them both a better day!
Yet knowing how wine can make you stray,
I concluded they both would repeat their sin.

Forever I’ll be telling this with a sigh
Everywhere ages and ages hence:
Two drunks converged in a bar, and I—
I helped the one most weakened by,
Stirred but not shaken in diffidence.


© 2020 by Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.

Drinking has been an exercise in
lunacy and sorrow,
like jumping off a cliff,
for tomorrow's dead dreams.
The fruit of the vine should
be sweet and sentimental,
like mamas and moonlight.
With a fistful of memories and
a soul full of pain,
I try it all again;
I chase the phantom.

the brandywine has struck
from the tops of your cheeks
right down to you feet

you heard it from the birds
and heard it from the bees
now you're hearing it from me

the brandywine has struck
you're woozy and acting floozie
but you're never going to stop

not till you drip drip drop
straight from the bottle into your maw
it burns like your cheeks in the candle light

You are clean white linden
You are fresh, unlit candles
You are white countertops
Tall ceilings
Polo shirts and
Designer cologne

I am ***** old combat boots and
Pully strings unraveling clothing
I am cheap haircuts
No, mental breakdowns and safety scissors  
2am smuged mirrors

Collected...I could never be
Never be white dresses
Can’t be new cars or a sharp witty tongue

Can’t be

God teach me how to stop
Being crumbling crackers
Everytime you try to hold me
Tightly

Can I ever not fall apart
When shown any human decency

Please dust up my tiny crumbling pieces
And still hold me