poem of the day 04.18.09

much too much

room dark
windows closed
music on
too much beer
too much scotch
much too much
door locked
television off
sky black
voices muted
distant
much too much
no work
no soul
too much wine
on the countertop
and in my gut
burning me good
much too much
sheets dirty
papers scattered on
the floor
books in piles
much too much
in the same stained
clothes
for days
alcohol and sperm
splotches
unshaven for a week
heart thumping heaven’s
rhythms
much too much
of a good time
to ever really think
about coming back
and joining the rest
of you fools
in your gold-plated
digital hell.