When the alarm blasts me awake
I have to unlace my work boots
to get ready for work
And there is no coffee
Six goddamn years I don’t see the sun
til I have already broken a sweat
til I have already ate a cold lunch of cold leftovers
or worse
At least five days a week I wake with my clothes on from the day before
like Jurgis in The Jungle
mumbling about working harder but that’s bullshit
since I only do exactly what it takes to earn the check
then go back to whatever filthy room I haven’t been
kicked out of yet and very unsuccessfully
try
not to drink too much
to write something honest
to not throw up because I
drank too much
and forgot to eat
The double whammy hums when I remember
to eat only to realize I forgot
to buy food
Revolution was the ideal
Creativity was the goal
Being young and misunderstood was the hall pass
The youth excuse is long gone
Hell
I still can’t keep it straight
with the rent the telephone the groceries
and goddamnit how does a grown man run out of toothpaste?
Laundry? Motherfucker-do not get me started on laundry
Every time I turn around the trash needs to go out or there is a spill
on the floor or a meeting where I have to keep it together
or a really long ladder under a really tall hangover
A friend that wants to
Get Together
A woman that wants to
Get To Know Me
I just need to take a shit
Christ on a stick when do you people find time for poetry?
–Steve Young