if anyone asks, i didn't & don't write a single word, sober; what would be the point? i never write from my heart, i pull these beauties out of my ***, i could never take myself seriously, esp. on the topic of the atypical "my love is perfect", even ginsberg said: not even the love of a madman ever was (cf. the crucifix).*

i don't know why i'm good with money,
perhaps spending 3 years among the picts
taught me something -
  as the joke goes: how was copper wire
invented? two scots arguing over a penny,
subsequently stretching it...
but i can push the money to places i never
even thought could exist -
namely drinking every single night,
seven nights a week -
  i remember having saved enough while
in poland for the whole of december -
came back, account balance standing
at a mighty 8+ hundred quid...
   i finally managed to squeeze my allowance
balance (per two weeks) to its original
hovering just above 0 at the end of
two weeks of straightly ******* it all away...
but then i do my little calculations -
and decide: i feel like saving some money...
so i do alternative weeks, i.e.
   sunday i don't drink, monday i drink,
tuesday i don't drink, wednesday
i drink, thursday i don't drink, friday i drink,
saturday i don't drink, sunday i drink...
sure, i dread the nights when i don't:
life is short... life is short?! *******!
  these nights drag on & on and there never
seems to be enough movies to watch to
pass the night...
      but i like these detox nights -
i actually enjoy the cold sweat lying in bed
in the night listening to silence,
or interludes of music -
              but then the next day is glorious,
i make dinner in the morning,
go for a 5 mile walk late morning through
to early afternoon, pop into the pharmacy
for some sleeping pills,
   have a beer walking in public...
   stockpile on some hard liquor,
iron some of my father's shirts...
feed the cats, read the sunday newspaper...
but then i always overdo something -
now, it wouldn't be right if i didn't have
a hard drink in the afternoon and end up
writing something...
    and knowing my luck, i'm lucky when
it comes to saving money...
   oh just a sly 35cl of *****...
     but then a little magic happens...
when england introduced its australian
style plastic banknotes i thought to myself:
it's over, i won't be finding banknotes
any time soon on the pavement...
   lo and behold! the new plastic fiver,
just lying on the pavement, smiling at me...
these moments of finding banknotes always
give me a fuzzy feeling, like warm custard,
no, like really cold icecream -
i don't know, i don't gamble, but in a sense
i do gamble: i gamble with my feet,
where to tread...
        and where to look...
      i've "won" more money walking the streets
sometimes looking up,
sometimes looking down,
   i've a pretty decent record,
   about three fivers, two tenner(s) and a twenty...
i missed these weeks,
  the cold sweats, the agonisingly long nights,
but sometimes saving money has its
ups, more ups than downs.