vision is blurring
thoughts so clear but words slurring
my world is hopelessly swirling
feeling so slow but the time moves fast
I don't care where I'm going so don't even ask
my throat engulfed with fire and I can't find my breath
sweet warm musk and the scent of death
the light pierces through the amber fluid, a warm comforting glow
from the bottle solace is an endless flow
wretching my soul but my mind it eases
quenching my taste, my body it pleases
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Few things can please a body more than a nice bottle of whiskey... few.