You know, it's not bad
I thought I would be messed up mentally
but instead I'm succeeding - they call it reality
I can't lie and say I don't long for
the outdated admiration, insincere adulation
from your clientele  - embarrassed millionaires
Wasting what's left of their fortunes
to stash and squeeze
While I was caring what you would think,
they crafted a creation out of me

I like to
think about
the curve of my words
compared to the small of your back;
the dot over i
to the ones on your skin
the lines crossing t's
like those that run beneath your vision
Were
you any letter,
you would take the form
of a hook and a swoop in another direction;
a question never ending
That's
always
asking
"Why?"

I drink ***** as I write poetry
Focus on my handwriting to keep myself from
Wondering what you're doing
or what you'd think of me
Sipping my way out of my head,
Jack Daniels for breakfast
freedom from the distillery