Just a clever weaver of words,
not a poet really just pretend.
I smoke and drink like geniuses
and chase my fame to its end.

A drunk old man's explanation
  of the beginning of creation
  a thought became a universe
  beating with a single pulse
  we made a God who created us
  to help us explain this mess
  we made heaven and hell
  and sins to count as well
  we all transition to death
  rage against a final breath.

I have no time to listen
to your supposition
of the conversation
of your observation
when you found her ****
swimming in an attitude
she thought it amusing
and started refusing
to name her admirer
who set her on fire.

Thank God. I made it past the minute hand.
    It's after 10 and my soul is black as midnight.
    The snake hair girl never showed. It seems I'm
    always lost in wonderland. Up is down. The Red
    Queen holds court. I drink the best I can to
    stupid. We roar with laughter at stories told
    by Korky. We feast. We sing and candles blown out.
    I sleep in a cold bed dreaming warm of snake hair.

I chased my dad into traffic
thinking he was leaving me
broken leg alive was magic
an old man will always see.
I try to remember the tragic
but I can only let it all be.

I float above my host
one more drink heals
pain burns the most
that he no more feels.

I check my morning shaving mirror
for my existence while I disappear,
thankful judging eyes of family
are no witness to my peculiarity.