always something

I read too much

drank the same

wrote too often

slept late alike

shouted wrong answers

at quiz shows on the tv

had pretensions of ideas

begged stolen of course

above my lowly station

as nothing was right

in this deserted old head

spend time thinking of other

than them

& still they’d offer cool love

drag me off to bed

& I’d leave them slowly

or with the whipcrack

of a late hour slamming door

if I was never right for them

just how could they love

hold me tight in the night

if I was such a dead hearted

half crazed slow witted boor?

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