Occasionally I struggle to write,
Eyes glazed over late at night,
Drinking ink instead of ****** wine,
Breathing in antique paper smoke.
Chewing on pen tips,
One slips, I cut my gum,
Tell the dentist it's a canker sore.

My soul whines for true release,
For me to free myself from the foolish games we play,
But instead, me and Spotify play the polo,
The Gentleman's shuffling game.
So the night wears on,
I udder not a single yawn,
Lost in dark times,
People say they're scared for me.