Nothing
Was I a poet once? I lost my wit, shit
Sweating out toxins
Drinking in you
Sweet nectar of perhaps.
Was I a poet once? I lost my wit, shit
The drugs drowned out any creativity
The tears shut out all my integrity
Fitting in has made me tired.
Was I a poet once? I lost my wit, shit
The beer makes me forget about anything I ever loved
The ganj has me tripping on who I could be
The sun burned out my cares
So numb, dumb cold indecision
This haircut makes me pissed
Don’t even remember what real love is
College has me drunk on self-discovery
Finding myself in empty ashtrays and 40s
Living the dream
Living out loud
Forget who I was
Welcome the now
I am a poet
Never lost my wit
But shit
It’ll up and leave
Me wandering for words
Breathless
I can taste the world my words used to articulate
pain sells and you can bet these brain cells
have seen more disillusion than reality
but armed with a pen I am suddenly sane and this stanza will end but the story-teller remains
Was I a poet once? I lost my wit, shit
I’ll be damned if I can’t pick up a pen and swirl around paragraphs
But I can’t and I’m stuck here in this endless rotation
No compass for direction
I can’t remember the last time I wrote my heart out
I’m crying trying to get it back, that spark
That I had once..
What does that even mean?