I think I could be a good writer
if I stopped and focused
for a period of time
if I could withdraw
from the streetlights
and the biting cold
that burns the veins
I try sometimes
to put out something
that someone may find
worthy of something
not sure what
but I try
and the words
sputter and choke
and all you see
on the page
is spittle
and small drawls
of a *****
waning man
who
not even twenty
can't keep to the course
he wants to walk
instead
dragged willingly off
by the women that
would eat his skin
and internals
laugh
in depravity
with teeth and tongue
much too sharp
I dont notice
another drink
another drink
I don't notice
all I see is legs
almighty
legs and
smiles that could
break satan's heart
another drink
another drink
I don't see anything
but the feeling
cuts through
the nothingness
of intoxication
and curls the neck
into tense relief
such leg
such smile
I am a sitting duck
ready and willing
such teeth
such tongue
they feast on me
like dogs to bone
can't focus
epic poems
escape
my tendered hands
inches from closure
as the teeth
and tongue
and leg and smile
pull me back
another drink
another drink
what was
I talking about
again?