Is this it?
   The fate that has been sealed for me?
Beer bottles, empty packs
and a twisted mind
only to write poetry
for the ones
   who share the same demons
that fills their cup.

What's good for the mind
is clearly bad for the soul
you empty your pockets
    so the whiskey fills the void
while waking up only to find pennies
  to take a cab
that leads you to a place
where only your hang over self
can find rest

and that is
home