There the poet lives  *                            
            Sunk in his own blissful depression and sorrow    
                       Protesting sobriety with gallons of liquor and hallucinogens                        

          *      There the poet sleeps*      
                           Dreams are made of reality beginning to fade                          
                                         A beautiful cacophony of syncopated Technicolor                                                      ­          

              *  There the poet sits
                       Writing and stringing together subjugated thoughts                    
                                    ­                                For someone to decipher and find further meanings for funding  

                                          *        There the poet listens
            Screeching birds like pterodactyls drilling his mind              
                                  Piercing the silent observations he desires  

              *         There the poet laments*    
                              Perched on the edge of the world                        
            Waiting for oblivion to come and save us all