Wake up for the coffee.

The coffee is always ready for you in the morning.

I usually have two to three cups a day,

sometimes just black,

sometimes I add a little sugar to jolt it up.

I get jolted and soon I'm high on life.

Getting high off of anything and still nothing excites me.

You excite me.

Those eyes,

lips,

skin,

that wet sour *****,

hard  *******

all excite me.

The shotgun hasn't arrived yet; I still don’t even know how to use one.
When it comes though,
I’ll make sure to use it on some damaged goods instead of myself.

Don’t you hate it when you sleep for eight hours

and still can’t get out of bed.

still tired and wanting to sink in that bed.

yet others live off two or three hours of sleep

and feel fine the next day.

In the factory I was working beside

a guy who said he had a great sleep yet

couldn’t stop passing out on the line.

he told me years ago he almost died right here

from OD’ing on opiates.

Now he was dying right in front of me from tiredness.

I had two hours of sleep.

felt alright.

Soon got a headache, and the black under my eyes was still there

but I was feeling alright.

Jazz muse
Rock muse
Classical muse
Blues muse
All the muse in the world.

How the loneliness drowns,
how you are never near now,
and I feel fine with the piano
Playing in the background.
inside my room and the sun
Is out I am peeling away
I am hiding feeling blue
With side fears eating me
Inside
The music plays
The loneliness is here to stay
I type you a poem
That you will never read
while the wolves in the forest starve
The birds throw up their meal
The fish die from poison lakes
you are sleeping in a dark room with no one and I am alone as well