His hands shook

His face contorted 

He fought with 

His stomach

Every morning

Palsy’d whiskey

Into his coffee

At breakfast

Thought no one

Noticed

As his new day 

Was inhaled past

His vomit rotted

Teeth.

His breath stunk

His skin was

pallid

He hadn’t washed

His eyes 

Were like

Dark

Stained glass

Portholes 

As he peered 

Ou...

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