I’d put my feet up but for this **** poem.
burning behind my temples,
I drove this far today to be alone.

Such a long mess of a day; I swear I’ve grown,
but I’m too old- crows feet perched above dimples.
I’d put my feet up but for this **** poem

If I yawn and stretch my lungs any more I’ll decompose.
I’d trade a kidney for a long shower to **** these road pimples;
I drove this far to be alone.

My eyes glaze like shivering chrome,
tuckered out from scanning lousy stanzas full of samples.
I’d put my feet up but for this **** poem

But I’m still packed and unshowered, staring at memory foam
And now, sitting with this pen in hand ain’t simple.
I’d put my feet up but for this **** poem;
I only drove this far to be alone.