hungover
and short
on rent.
digging through
possessions
to see what i can
sell off.
digging through
my phone book
to see which bridge
i have yet to burn.
the taste of
stale whiskey
and cocaine
on my tongue.
my fridge is empty,
my head is full,
perhaps too full.
i do not like
where i am headed
but i see nowhere else
left to go.
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