I am drunk, destitute
Debauched and dangling
Between men who'd
Like me to say things
They'd like to hear
And do things
That would brace their world,
The world they've known
As children,
Unscarred by the written word
Or untouched by
Life's crags and clefts
But soon solitude's persistence
Leads me to give in
To be accepted,
And as I do so,
I lose Myself,
Little by little.