Morphine dreams twist me
into small dark places
lined with teeth
that eat the pain
and take my soul
waking up annoys
I'm sneezing
feeling cold
no, hot
it hurts
it burns
I hate it
let it go
and toss and turn
until the shackles round my cells release
two days to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem