The Next One
I woke up and felt dead.
Nothing new, but I’m spurred on by tonight’s events,
A chance to drink and party with friends.
I didn’t understand my lecture and the tutorial went over my head,
But it’s fine, it’ll be drunkenly forgotten by the time I’m in bed.
Mondays are tough, I’m not rewarded refuge from the noise,
I’m left yearning for the next night out with the boys.
When I won’t stress about uni,
When I no longer hate the way I look,
The scars disappear as if the alcohol took- all the that pushes me over,
All the restless torments and stupid insecurities,
But they’ll be back, and worse, as soon as I’m sober.
The floodgates reopen and the water floods my mind,
Accompanied by headaches and nausea entwined,
Now it’s worse than ever because all that I can think,
Is when an earth can I next drink.
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