Endless Morning Sun

The eclipse behind my mind blots out the sun in imperfect ink droplets, radiating malignant rays of pain.

The acrid smell of stale beer mixes with the bitter tang of discarded cigarette butts – a sumptuous bouquet of regret.

I want to die, or just lie in bed until the crimson sun bursts from the sky.

Reviving the 55 Word Challenge from my old Storiesmania days. Prompt was “Summer Hangover”