The morning after...
Alone, alone,
I was still alive.
Thoughts of the day before,Alone, alone,
I was still alive.
Tasted syrupy-sweet,
On my dream-drenched brow, now parched.
Sobriety, alike to whiskey burning,
Admonished yesterday,
And wobbled out,
Into a new today.
SCA January 17, 1999