my face shivers at my sight,
my eyelids rub like sandpaper.
my nose has gone mad, lost it’s sense;
my lips tremble, observing the damage.
my eye-bags are wine-colored,
inebriated on euphoria now decayed into
a ringing migraine that took its sweet time
to wake me up this morning.
¿ʇɥƃᴉu ʇsɐl pǝuǝddɐɥ ʇɐɥʍ?
visual: Bradley Cloete