I've suffered so many mornings.
Coming too with less than two hours sleep.
Already late for my feeble job.
The nausea, shakes and of course the
sickness of the heart that I always felt as
last nights memories began to haunt me...
...through my day. The earliest moments of
waking were difficult physically. My eyelids
were stiff and I felt a chill on my body.
The next pain was just the motion of standing.
Water on my body made only an attempt
to wash away the smell of alcohol coming
out of my pores. Then I would get in the first
article of dress I grabbed... that was the closest to clean...
....and think of another explanation of why I was late again.
Copyright 12-20-2008 ©® Sarah Sisson
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem