when my pen skips
a dippy dame the piles of dishes
in the sink,
I hate the beer running out
and all the flies invading my house,
I hate having to wake up and go
to work hungover with ink stains on my chin
and breath of demons, I hate, and
light green walls my landlord needs to let
me paint a mural, of Bathseba and the holy land
on my walls.