Drunk last night was I
9 glasses of vodka was enough to get high
I dreamt I could fly
Almost like a butterfly
I was weak
And my head still ached
I was getting sick
I simply had too much too take
I rolled and there it was
Soft fair skin
She was naked
And her cologne still smelled fresh
I gazed in shock
Almost falling off
I rolled forward without a touch
Her warm skin still touched mine
I stared at her face and heart pounded
And the goose bumps popped out all over
And eventually I fell off
She was dead
Her throat slit
Her blood rolling out smoothly soaking the bed
And painting red the white bed cover
She was really dead
And just as I rose to my feet
The cops stormed in
Bad Bad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem