Hangover

I open my eyes and immediately begin coughing,
My throat is on fire,
I can feel the desert on my tongue,
I taste blood,
My stomach hurts,
I spend twenty minutes trying to roll over to spit something out of my lungs,
Another twenty minutes trying to stumble out of my shitty bed,
My eyes are twirling and my head is intermittently pounding and swimming like the time I took lsd at disneyland,
All twelve beers and 750ml of Johnny Walker are arguing in my body about who gets to leave first.
After making it past the no-man's-land of my squealing pock-marked memory foam bed I claw at the two blankets covering my window to keep the glare out,
Big mistake,
The light physically hurts me as I attempt to open my window and release the stale cigarette smoke from my bedroom,
The innermost blanket has Tinkerbell on it and she laughs at my futile agony,
It's quarter past two and I wish I was either dead or still drinking,
I scan my room for the grocery bag full of snacks I brought home while I was still half sober,
Not finding it I cease my investigation and return to my squeaky uncomfortable bed and listen to some old Bukowski recordings,
He says that if it's hard don't do it, so I don't,
My phone is blinking four different colours,
She messaged,
I contemplate smashing my phone into shards like all the painful memories tightening my chest,
Bukowski says if it's hard, don't do it,
I've been awake for 45 minutes and I already regret beating the other sperm to the egg,
I have no water left so I drink some warm flat cream soda,
The blood taste intensifies for some reason,
I spend another twenty minutes trying to make my way to the washroom to void my body of the poison I consumed the night before,
The cat is still outside,
I think about trying to bring him in but it's a nice day,
I cough out some blood for a few minutes and take a piss,
I can smell myself so I light a cigarette and shower with it,
I finish the shower and return to my room, resuming the playlist I was listening to all night,
My phone consistently blinks reminding me that she messaged but I've moved on,
You can't win affections if your opponent is cocaine,
Bukowski says if it's hard don't do it.