Withnail is I

Mike Bell/ May 17, 2016/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

Here stood desk-leant
now feeling fine,
knocking back left over
swigs of wine:

Earlier Harvey’s
unsettles my gut,
a prelude to the morning’s
face-down chuck?

Unless I am lucky
and avoid a hewed-spew,
I’ll suck down my bile
and collapse in the loo

to attend to this toilet’s
spick-spanned wipe:
this is my prayer-mat
sick out of sight.

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