Crouched thus,
the cold, tiled floor
has much to offer
the steady drip from the rusty pipe
plays background music
to this mocking scene
spent,
cocooned in
muted humiliation
I wait
for another wave
of nausea
to live up to this glorious moment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful lines and hidden joy...