when young
on a Friday
Saturday
night...
I drank to get drunk
drunk was lying down
holding on falling off
the edge of the earth...
I was exceptionally
rarely drunk drinking
drunk into oblivion...
waking
pale next morning
after drunk skulling
a full bottle drinking...
a bottle of ouzo
dry retching
vomiting up
stomach lining...
is living death...
was a never repeated
never to be repeated
curtain on paralytic
drinking terminated...
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem