Words of a broken voice box.

Near Death Non-Experience by Jay Isip.


Wake up from an experience with no recollection of the night ,
room is spinning faster than the ceiling fan as you stare in the light,
heart is throbbing, head is pounding, as you look to the right,
sight is ugly, McDonald wrappers and a bloody pen you used as a knife.
Knuckles are wounded with red crust in between your finger tips,
wash your hands and face as you stare in the mirror with swollen lips.
Reflection gets deeper as you recognize the blood in your teeth,
looking as if you ate steak rarer than a piece of raw meat.
Sips of water from the pitcher as you drink straight from the the spout,
fully dehydrated as you wash down the alcohol out of your mouth,
aimlessly walk around your house, to see yourself slouching on the couch,
frustratingly trying to remember but apparently your memory is out.
Finger tips squeezing your dome, as you hear a ring and answer the phone,
Voices out the receiver with laughter asking if you are alone.
Gnawing on faces, pen stabbings in places, and hit by a stone,
realizing that’s what took place as you left the bar to walk home.
The cards that were dealt, you obviously went all in with your wealth,
felt no remorse feelings towards what you’ve done to someone else.
Not one care in the world as the earth spins on your finger,
sweat pores reek of Bacardi as you enjoy the smell and linger.
You sharpen your teeth as you await the same exact victim,
full of sins with no sorrow and this time you’ll attack and stick them.
Belt strapped tight with more alcohol consumed for your health,
Only to live another day to watch history repeat itself…


About Jay Isip

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