my last birthday

waking again to a spinning room
the heavy pulse of exhastion making me squirm in...?
this couch, not mine, not a friend of mine's
all the same as i hear familiar voices from another room
shaking and shot through with nervous energy
the confusion fades as quickly as my eyes adjust to the midday sun
letting in a rush of headache
and it pounds on my forehead
man, it fucking lets me know what i've done
in spite of the details

a rush of adrenaline as I remember the rest of my body
and it aches too
aches like i just ran a marathon
aches like i've been fighting
like i never slept at all
like i'm killing my self the hard way

I'm dry.
All the way to the bone I'm dry
the taste of stale liquor sticks to my tongue as i try to work up some spit so i can swallow it down

I won't stay dry long if i don't make it to a bathroom soon
the tight swelling in my lower abdomen now moving to the center of my attention
I half-heartedly try to rise and stop short
before my head ever leaves the pillow
I almost vomit onto my chest as i squirm some more

The back of my head feels cold and damp
i notice that i am covered, head to toe, in sweat
and why shouldn't i be?
I never took my coat off last night before passing out
someone still thought i would get cold and threw a blanket over me

i roll to my right and onto the floor carrying the blanket with me
it's dirty and covered in white dog hair
it's thin and red
it's hard to leave it behind as i crall for a few feet
adjusting to the cooling sweat all over my body

the voices in the next room swell for a moment
as i survey the scene around me
empty beer cans all over the floor and large black trash bags filled  with fast food bags and god knows what else
i push away from the dark black stains of the carpet using a coffee table covered with route 44 cups from Sonic
this is how penecillin was discovered?

a dry heave already as i barrel down a vaguely familiar hallway
and into a room with a toilet and a shower.

yeah, i'm in the right place...

i hug the bowl and feel it's cool
I'm trying to ignore the overflow of tampon wrappers and used floss in the beer box trash can next to me
I'm trying to imagine Chris Cornell doing just what i am doing now
or Ozzy Ozbourne
Cobain
Vicious
These are the faces staring back at me from the wall

a huge push from my guts
nothing...
another tight heave
and just the slightest bit of yellow liquid
(here we go baby, just let it happen)
my eyes tear up and my face gets red
and blammo! the acid taste floods my mouth four or five times before i get to take a breathe

my empty stomache heaves and heaves
i feel better but am in no mood for company when a young girl with too much makeup opens the door
she's not surprised to find me there
even though we've never met...or have we?
she apologizes like i give a fuck and shuts the door hard
she's wearing a tight leather skirt and black leggings
a leapard print shirt and her hair is shaved in the back

fucking punk kids?
how the fuck did i end up here?
i check my pockets and my keys are there
i'll look for my wallet later

the clock on the wall says 4:20
but judging by the magazine cut-out pictures of buds in the frame
it always says 4:20 
whatever, I steal a hit from a glass piece hidden among the route 44 cups and open the front door
no use saying goodbye

The air is humid, i'm still drunk, and where the fuck is my car..?