I once worked the sign
at the intersection
of Facebook and HelloPoetry.
All those years when
secure in my job,
flush with cash,
I'd not meet the eyes
of those who muttered
"thank you, sir"
on those rare occasions
when a crumpled dollar
fell from my hand into theirs.
So I now tell on myself
to bleed the shame
from the arrogance,
never knowing the courage
it takes to look the privileged
in the eyes and ask for help
until I stood on the corner
clothed only in my naked need.

of childhood vice
of ice and spice
of whisky dreams
fermented schemes
but in the days of lore
I'd promised me
no liquor no powder,
no smoke-paper-and-wool
i'd lose myself to dreams weaved from words
but lately all the colour in my skull comes from drugs
because when i went from sweet sixteen
to a sour twenty one
all i did every day of the month of the year
to **** you all off,
every single promise,
one by one i killed you,
darlings.