Old Dogs

ANGST


on nights
such as these
plagued by the ordinary
inundated by the inane
my brain screams out
for alcohol

my girlfriend
is hard at work
earning an income
to support my lazy ass
and my philosophically
unsound tendency
not to accept
everyday life
as I see it
unfold

me alone
suffocating
in stormy perceptions
of questionable meaning
which eventually erode
under the ugly weight
of sanctimonious
work ethic
a glacier
of bullshit
carving Great Lakes
of conformity
in my
soul

now
I sit here
at the machine
blank sheets of paper
laughing
at my plight

writing
while possibly
a noble diversion
is certainly not
an adequate
substitute
for drink