I write from a bathtub
On a handful of drugs
Listening to Boston.
My father used to chuckle
"I’m glad I never became a lush"
Just then the iPod shuffles to “plush”
This vanilla mint body scrub will set in lovely.
It’s like I’m crushed under bubbly…lost in vices
Way past advice & a ghost under city lights
I just want to write to Lawrence
Tell him I owe him this life
I know all he’s say is “shut up & write”
Make sure it’s poetic and makes people’s hearts die
Their mind twist
The words have to bite.
Poetry is an insurgent art
This is dedicated to harmony tonight
Maybe we’ll all find some peace in this life