As the pain starts to drain away,
I lay in my bed and stare
Blankly at the clock next to my closet.
The long hand sluggishly glides over each number as slow as
A snail inching across the grass,
Or a cow chomping on it's afternoon graze.
My head still pounds,
And my breath lingers with BudLight.

My mind seems to be drifting and wondering endlessly,
I press play in my brain and reply the whole incident;

One beer,
Two beers,
Three.
Soon it was 6.
I awake stretched out on my bed,
Clueless to how I could have arrived here.

My memory was written on the chalkboard,
And I longed to erase it,
But the memory will forever stay,
Because the eraser is gone.

Time reflects on the sunset as the sent of beer
No longer tastes alive anymore.
The memory?
Feels like a minute ago.
A mistake.
My regret.
Alcohol.