Searching for my Sober Self
By Brian Looney
The hangover sun assaults my beer-battered brain.
Through trembling fatigue,
I search for my Sober Self.
Oh yes, my Sober Self.
My body yearns for him,
But my brain reviles him.
A two faced adolescent.
And nobody loves him.
Where can he be?
Where is the boy of the bored pleasure?
Where is the accepting Drone?
Where is the shy Obedient?
Where is his feeble advice?
His voice implored me to beware.
His clamor distracted my habit.
His nagging warned me of nonsense.
He was, after all, only a boy.
An unseasoned innocent with unsound advice.
And thus, my search continues.
In a convalescent's nightmare,
I find his bobbing bloated body.
It dances on alcoholic waves
In lifeless acceptance.
Graceless, fearless, thoughtless.
My carefree laughter disturbs the sunburnt horizon.
I never knew a sober corpse could hop an Irish Jig.
By Brian Looney
The hangover sun assaults my beer-battered brain.
Through trembling fatigue,
I search for my Sober Self.
Oh yes, my Sober Self.
My body yearns for him,
But my brain reviles him.
A two faced adolescent.
And nobody loves him.
Where can he be?
Where is the boy of the bored pleasure?
Where is the accepting Drone?
Where is the shy Obedient?
Where is his feeble advice?
His voice implored me to beware.
His clamor distracted my habit.
His nagging warned me of nonsense.
He was, after all, only a boy.
An unseasoned innocent with unsound advice.
And thus, my search continues.
In a convalescent's nightmare,
I find his bobbing bloated body.
It dances on alcoholic waves
In lifeless acceptance.
Graceless, fearless, thoughtless.
My carefree laughter disturbs the sunburnt horizon.
I never knew a sober corpse could hop an Irish Jig.
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