Around midnight

I drank too much rum

Out of my skull

Fell down the stairs

Of the Bar Tropicana

Karaoke

My nose feels broke

 

I made it home

And staggered down the hall

And slammed the door hard

And the clock clattered

Off the kitchen wall.

 

It leans half cock now

Drunken, propped

Against the ‘Dad of the Year’ trophy

 My kids awarded me

…But that was many years ago

 

The clock shows around four

 

But I guess it must be slow

As the sun is rising.

 

And while the day

Is cranking open its eyes

Mine are heavy lidded

Closing fast

 

There’s an egg sized lump

At the back of my head

Where it bounced the floor

When my chair tipped backwards

 

And blood on my shirt

From a bleeding nose

Just another hurt

I got

But hardly felt.

 

Needing a clear space

For my chipped

Dusty glass

And bottle of bootleg rye.

 

I sweep my arms

Dusting mouse droppings

Nail clippings

And stale cheese crumbs

Off the table to the lino floor.

 

My head is running low

And slow

Wrestling thoughts

Of god

Or gods

And life

And how to live

And what I should

And shouldn’t do

And does it matter anyway

And where do I belong?

 

 

I thought I’d pray

But it came out wrong

 

“Goddamn you god

Why won’t you give me a sign?

What did I ever do

To hurt you?”

 

And the rye drains from my glass

And the glass fills again.

And the sun stands tall

And the light hurts my eyes

As I roll a fag from ashtray butts;

Light it from the stove

 

And the smoke buzz swirls my brain

And the walls melt

And the room dances

And the chair rocks

And the table dances

And the clock ticks

And the sun dances

Dazzling my eyes

 

And I…slowly… shut down

 

I wake sometime

My face sprawled on the table

 

My top set’s

Dropped out in sleep

Pink and white

In a pool

Of blood

and drool

 

The overflowing

Landing

Toilet stinks

 

I shift plates and pans to the side

Of the sink

And stand to pee

And lean over

And upchuck my guts

And cough and retch

And cuff my mouth dry

And reach for the next to last bottle

Of what passes for rye

Stored safely

In the cupboard below

Beside the bleach.

 

The clock shows around four but it’s                                    

Probably fast…