A Shell, of Sorts

Heavy eyelids reluctantly open,

Groaning, head pulsing,

Mouth cracked from dehydration.

Dried drool stenches like morning,

Deep-seated sleep deprivation under eyes,

Acid surging into throat, burning.

Dust settles,

And fuzzy faded memories come running.

Life is messy like you,

And these dirty sheets you’ve tangled yourself into.

Why do you never remember the death you chase,

When alcohol takes your face?

cover yourself whole,

and forget.

xx Tessa Rose

HEY I think I’m becoming a poet. This poem was written after a week of bad decisions and a little too much tequila (that stuff…) — my poetry professor has been making us put ourselves in crazy situations like strip naked and stand in a bucket, or put a penny in your mouth and drink orange juice to help us write, and I don’t know if it’s improving my poetry, but it is giving me some interesting perspectives and feelings (nothing is more exposing and vulnerable than standing in a bucket naked). ANYWAYS hope you guys enjoyed this poem, and I wish you all a wonderful week!! ❤

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