Hungover On Campus.

I am sitting,
The blankets cling to me;
An extra layer of skin to
My mollusc membrane. 

Fabric eyelids
Struggle open like the peeps
Of a new born babe, 

Sinewy crust falls from the socket;
And through the pane
The ochre blush of
Nostalgic streetlamps betrays
Me. 

Arms crossed,
Oaken palms rig doors
To lock;
Knock – knock,
‘Not today, no thanks.’

And to the left
The sphere flickers,
It mimics the pulse of
My own beat
Today;
I replaced you once,
You dupe. 

Even now,
My digital mouth is propped
Open, no idle saliva drips,
No teeth will grind;
Some man cut the wires,
So we want to cut him.