in the morning
that fifth of vodka
hits you like
a wall of water
twenty feet tall
and you gasp for air
while you are in the shower
and you walk
well you try and walk
around covered by a cloth
moistened by your wet body
thinking that you might as well
just give it all up now
throw in the towel
only to know that
it will
leave you vunerable
and naked
so you leave it on
and you feel as if this day
might as well
be your
last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem