I say stupendous things
To scream out silly feelings
A writer, or artist, or ***
But you won't hear nothin'
I'll breathe and die it all
Rutted in my own words
These are my thoughts
Nothing gives me pause
No cause, no reason,
No season of giving will part me
From each little catastrophe
Greedy, I ****** each little grub
Seedy, my thoughts ache and rub
Against the only barrier I have
The skull that protects my stash
A poor man has but words and spit
I've got more, but don't give a ****
I'd throw away a kingdom of gold
to reclaim the last piece of my soul
Because I love my thoughts where they are
Since they can never run away very far
And I like stagnation to go with
My sweet libations
Ravings of writer, artist, or madman
I'll never be the one that had them
These are my treasures
Each is counted, each is savored