the morning mirror

the sun pierced through my blinds
as I awoke naked on my bed
confused and weary
with a feeling of destruction
in my head

I lived it up last night,
I’m guessing
like I do sometimes when
I feel like I’m not living right

I lifted my head and looked around
birds singing
garbage truck
ears ringing
silence

I saw my Nabokov novel
laid open on the nightstand
dirty shoes and drunken pants
in the corner.

I rose up and went to the bathroom,
after a long dehydrated piss
and a splash to the face
I looked in the mirror–
crusted blood under my nose
swollen cheeks
blood shot eyes

I knew that if I walked out
into the world at this moment
I’d be greeted with scorn
and sympathetic glares

indeed.

I see something else

I see,
looking in this mirror
on a beautiful morning,
triumph
vitality
glory

the mirror
has rewarded me,
on this fine morning,
the pleasure
of realizing that I am-
I am alive,
hurting and a horrid sight,
but alive
and I cherished this pain
of another forgotten night

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