a few hits of whiskey are always good for a few lines of poetry
they say writing is therapy and if it is, I should have been cured by now
I can’t face the day without a drink, and couldn’t face a drink without a few others
being sober is so healthy and...boring!
I stopped looking for the truth
maybe there is no truth, if there is, maybe it’s better we don’t know what it is
we might all be in for a disappointment
wait a second...hold my coffee…
I always go out and stand in the pouring rain at least once a summer
for the exhilaration of it, for the craziness of it
lightning struck not three feet of me, white and yellow was all I could see
there was nothing mysterious about it, it clearly was a case of the paranormal
I went back inside dripping wet, nobody paid attention, nobody cared
the music playing inside took me back to the good old days of heedlessness
and the what me worry attitude that went with it
I still had it, at least somewhat anyway
so where does the time go? it passes by without so much as a whisper
while we’re looking the other way or not paying attention at all
I got a free newspaper that they keep around the place
for people who forgot their ubiquitous laptops
I was writing down the schedule for ships to the far east just in case I decided to board one
the spirit was willing but the common sense wasn’t
