beer
and cigarettes for breakfast
the
girl i woke with
disappeared
like a ghost
whose
bones have finally
been
properly buried
declining
even a cup of coffee
now
she will only haunt my dreams
my
goal today
at
some hour
take
a shower
then
buy another bottle of whiskey
and
tonight go for a walk
got
invited to a poetry reading
i
replied,
“the
only thing i don’t like
about
performing before a live audience
is
the people”
they
joked that i needed an auditorium
of
the dead
but
the last time
i
recited poetry in a graveyard
i
was really stoned
took
my clothes off
got
arrested
the
cops suspected
someone
at 3 a.m.
was
up to no good
you
can only be
put
on probation
so
many times
when
the next thing
about
which you rhyme
is
your muscled cell mate
and
his intentions
for
six months to a year
so
i steer clear
of
things that might
materialize
this fear
although
there are many who say
the
way i waste my life
writing
about whiskey
is
a life sentence
without
the possibility of parole
i
bought a homeless couple
food
last night
i
was standing there smoking
camouflaged
by the
l.a.
concrete gray
watching
them beg pedestrians
for
food
who
were rude regarding
the
inconvenience of their existence
i
was somewhat disgusted
these
humans with whom
the
future is entrusted
i
went inside the convenience store
bought
deli sandwiches
hostess
cherry pies
and,
fuck it, a goddamn bottle of whiskey
i
handed the man the bag
walked
away
thinking
of words from
an
obscure book written long ago,
“i
will show you my faith by my works”
individually
we may not be able
to
do anything about the victims
of
the floods in north korea
but
that which is right in front of us
shouldn’t
even be discussed
just
done
yeah,
i may always be on the run
from
me
and
all that i should be
but
even meaningless poetry
can
find substance
on
these city streets
o.k.
time to buy that bottle of whiskey
be
right back
the
hotel of my mind
has
a vacancy sign
incessantly
flashing
outside
the window
keeping
me awake
the
sense of my existence
but
nothing fills that emptiness
honestly
i can’t figure out
which
room is unoccupied
or
what it needs to be furnished with
to
reach maximum capacity
so
i just stare at the sign
waiting
for the world
to
run out of electricity
and
shut the damn thing off
meanwhile
whiskeyfied
i
survive
eating
a bag of
cheddar
cheese popcorn
i
bought with the bottle
stale
but
right now
it’s
the holy grail
i’m
all about pleasure
if
i’m about anything
fleeing
the scene of the crime
but
my d.n.a. is all over her body
and
my last memory is her pulling
on
her shirt as she hastily made her exit
i
read today that the average person
has
eight sexual partners
in
their life time
today
i learned
i’m
a whore
i
look at the shirt
i
pulled off and tossed
at
the chair
it’s
almost standing there
half
crumpled
i
tell it,
“you’re
perfect”
i
come from the balcony
see
the beer and whiskey
i’ve
been molesting
and
can’t comprehend
which
is my best friend
so
i have a threesome
at
the mailbox
a
rather attractive blonde
talks
to me
“you’ve
lost so much weight
what
have you been doing?
we
carried conversation
while
i wondered,
“who
are you?”
did
the whiskey destroy
the
brain cells that housed
memories
of her
or
is it me
and
she just wasn’t worth
remembering
i
can’t even get the mail
without
being impaled
by
the nails
that
will never impute
forgiveness
for my
multitude
of sins
beer
breakfast
whiskey
lunch
poetry
purpose
another
cigarette
and
you can bet
i’ve
past the point
where
erasure
replaces
remember
it’s
september
but
only because it rhymes
otherwise
i’d be playing
the
flute in
the
galactic philharmonic
symphony
orchestra
writers
reinvent reality
this
poem started hours ago
because
i fed a homeless couple
last
night
and
had an existential crisis
now
i’m using whiskey to lysis
and
forgot the goddess isis disowns
any
children who stray
onto
the dark streets of decay
***
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