deepundergroundpoetry.com

Punch Drunk

Woke up coughing for whatever reason I can't get up
Each eyelid seems to weigh a ton, what the fuck
There seems to be a fallen building right on top of me
My breathing is painful, labored, and my voice is raspy
 
"Hello" is continuously forced out with no response
My eyes are slowly pried open, they hit my cheeks and brow, and they bounce
I find myself looking up at a ceiling that is totally unfamiliar
The scent is foul as hell, smothering, and it isn't familiar
 
Where am I and why can't I move or get up
Has all the world died or do they just not give a fuck
Call after call goes unanswered, the fear is taking over me
Depression runs away scared, replaced by anxiety and it wont let me be
 
My heart starts racing, yes it's pumping pure fear and adrenaline
I can't see anyway out and don't remember coming in
With all that I have I pushed and felt something rolling away
I thought that it was my headstone but those are made to stay
 
As I rose from my grave death was there before my eyes
I was covered in blood and vomit, and there was a dead body by my side
The room was dim but I could make out bodies all around
It was a body that I pushed off of me, and there was one across my legs still holding me down
 
That smothering scent was now easily identified as puke, blood, and shit
The images started flooding back in and just wouldn't quit
As I waded through the slime I started remembering line by line
As we all agreed to drink the punch and take a chance at dying
 
No one was scared seeing the first one of us throwing up
We broke out an ounce of green and started rolling that shit up
No one got scared when the coughing began to hurt
We attributed it to the weed, hell lacing that shit really works
 
The lower we got into the punch bowl, the more of us started leaning to the side
Coughing and puking, shitting on the side of the road begging Death for a ride
The girl that brought me here had feel across my lap convulsing
As I fell backwards onto the floor, someone fell across my chest vomiting, yeah fucking repulsing
 
All of this came back as I made my way to the door
But I remembered the weed and punch, so I went back for some more
Two blunts and a few cups to finish the punch up, and I remembered that my lungs were still sore
But maybe, just maybe, this time I will get what I went there for    
 
        
 
I_IS_ME
Written by I_IS_ME
Published | Edited 24th Mar 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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