The Morning After

I wake up
with a pounding head
and a resentment
repeating on me
like last night’s kebab.

My shell-shocked priority
is to rise from the sweat-stained bed,
wipe my face of beer-drool
and pieces of meat
that fell in battle
on the barbed wire of my beard.

The creases and folds
that trench across
the grey no-mans land
in the mirror,
tell me I’m too old and grizzled
for these tiny wars,
that I should surrender,
at least for now.
#MastoPrompt #Hangover #SmallPoems #Writing