Hungover Poem by nathan martin

a little light in the blind eye searches for the illusion.

grain alcohol filled apparitions stumble through the cornea
seeking asylum from the light of day.

myopic lord dont look down on me just yet.

cause there is no chance to forget now my
birthplace a moment ago.

thin thin gravity round my head.


a little darkness in a pair of sunglasses
blinds my eye, tints the orange hew.

missing involitude, indiscrepant past,
each wander into their own corner
before the color can be deciphered.