Sweet Dreams
Genius, mostly hidden, sure and yet not
Take a drink or three, maybe a generous shot
Writing writs with style drunkish
Sober mostly has to go
Hemingway lingers in thought and action
Feelings become a lost reaction
Left to linger on dance floor ripped
Like rhythm dropped any way it’s spit
Flippin and slippin lost whole and alone
Fuck you and fuck them too
Lost in a suburban construct, doing what they do
Commercially loved and taught to seek
What’s assumed strong but in truth weak
Conform to what women want, you must
Bullshit I say, your hand is bust
Rainbow flop at the flush glory sought
Suck it up sweetheart,
Your bed is made.
Hitchhiker 