Challenge
Challenge of the Week CCXXXIII
Write a short poem about waking up in drunken regret. On this one, winner is decided by likes. Make it brutal. 25 big ones on the line. Go.
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Doubt Soup
Head pounding.
Mind in a fog.
Thoughts stand, just out of reach.
Groping in the dark.
For a single one.
Any.
One does.
Floats through the soup.
Gradually making its way.
To me.
Bumps against the shores.
Of my mind.
And.
Reveals itself.
Was it worth it?