Some days I stay in and mourn
To days when life was six cans and bottle of whisky chaser
I could rule the world through glazed irresponsibility
Turn black to white
People listened for a time
Spellbound by my righteous generosity
Those were the days
When dictators ruled the world
Inside my head
Now I rule the room
Fully padded wall to wall
Life in glorious technicolor
I give lectures to students
Watch their eyes  as they stumble through questions
Too dangerous for living souls
They see the eternal dead
Within my presence
Touching their inner being
For a time I’m back on top
Giving reason to the glorious dead
All lined up waiting
Waiting
Waiting for that answer
Yet surely they know
They were there
For a time
That’s the problem with the dead
They always want answers
Someday the world will know the truth
Or at least a version
Leaving a slight myth
To a created legend.