After a fair share of debauchery
stretched over a week
it had caught up with me.
I was in trouble
all exhausted
chewed up.
The television cameras had got us.
It was for some reality TV show
about building confidence
for being a best man.
They should have interviewed me
I’ve done it twice.
I was an unbeatable authority on the subject
and I knew my way round a speech.
I was a subtle talker.
Only a fool shouts his ‘truth’ from the rooftops.
The sun beat and the traffic beeped and it was all too much.
I felt like the drink in my hand was going to make me throw up.
It wasn’t good.
I was on the fourth hangover of the week now.
It was Thursday.
I wasn’t eating well.
I needed to repair and rest or I was going to expire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem