Poem -

I’ll regret this tomorrow

I hate being drunk
but I need to sleep

I hate mirrors
but I need to make sure

that others can see
my pantomime act

My body a restless 
Puppet that enjoys

Empty conversations 
and full wine glasses 

And I always awaken
At 3am or 3:05

The last moment
Of the dreams play

Out and I recall
The spider in the paint

Pot that met its 
Crimson end 

 

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