Made my morning
much much easier
Doing everything that
I was told to never do.
Wake up with wine
A glass at a time
And at least three
Puffs of Cuckoo Chi.
Before that I fuck myself.
Or, with luck, a PYT,
Who promises me
She’s on the pill.
And if not, Oh
Well, I’m sure “Zanir”
wasn’t her government name.
It took close to twenty-three years
To shake off the agony of daytime.
There was no place for me in the
Systematic sunlight. Or, at least,
Not one that I could see. But now
I’ve got a bottle, ½ full of optimistic
Alcoholism. I manage the condition
With a bit of cinnamon, spiced into
Steel cut oats and W.A. Elderberries.
Admitting what you don’t understand
While trusting that you know yourself
Is the last, if not only, human freedom.
Social expectation &
Psychic ambiguation.
Don’t take refuge in the familiar
Without first hugging your weird.
Comfort traps aren’t new,
Just the latest edition in:
That’s How They Get You.