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 fell 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
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