Once again I try my hand at palette poetry. Spoiler: it doesn't rhyme at all. :))
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| The Hangover |
Sunshine spills like acid into the musty room,
burning the cheap rumpled sheets
and my Coca Cola boxers.
I know not where I am,
Nor where you are.
Fizzy, fuzzy ideas linger in my head:
I sit up and doubt their credibility.
'Peacock-blue' mascara on the pillowcases---
Or is that 'peacock-green'?
F-me lipstick on my neck...
...
F-me lipstick on my neck.
I better get up,
Or my boss is gonna kill me.
A cup of stale coffee
(that tastes more like cardboard)
as Johnny chants ironic verses
amid the chaos in my pounding head.
What was your name again?
//I like this color layout better. Watcha think?
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