that satellite
is wearing a cape!
  super moon

E equals
MC^2?
    -- the tachyon laughed

I live
yet walk upon
my tomb. I long to fly
up there and escape my coffin;
this Earth

brittle leaves
swirl in circles
behind the motorcycle

Wear a bathrobe
when beating the keyboard,
when borrowing words from your muse;
Let the stale air in the
dim room
form as
     fragrant
beads of sweat,
thick with whiskey,
on your brow
Wonder if what you're
     writing
is poetry or ****
Proceed to not care and
write, write, write baby
because at the end of it all,
when the words are used up
and you've sobered up,
someone will tell you
     it's ****
and someone will tell you
     it's gold
But you don't give a ****, do you?
You just
     reach for the whiskey
bottle and ask your muse
     for some more
Netflix and chill
But hey, wear that bathrobe;
     it gives you character

the sting
of the needle
brings both pleasure and pain;
i’m addicted to getting new
tattoos

at my age
drinking whiskey
with young
Marines
is a poor choice
Decades of practice
and years of experience
keep me seemingly
sober
for longer -
I beat my nephew at
chess
in five moves
bragging about my skill and
prowess
but really, my nine shots
to his
three give me an
unfair advantage;
I’ve learned to handle
my whiskey
I mock these young
soldiers
for their lack of
stamina,
knowing all the while
they will wake at
0600,
run three miles,
and feel great
while I will
sleep
until 0900
and feel like
**** all day