• A swirling ache is pulsing between my ears, 
  • marked by the wincing of my eyes as they twitch lightly,
  •  closed with the pain. 
  • A rush of that gushing nausea, washes over my throat,
  • and at once I feel I must be sick.
  • So here I lay, dazed and torn by my choices to drink only the night before.

poem theme: Hungover

poem by @tearoost

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