waste of time and money

There are many

 Things in life

That can qualify

   As a waste

Of time

  And money

Regardless

 Of what those things

Might be

 When we choose to

Spend money
 and use our spare time

  We do expect

Some results

Whether

 It be temporary

  Happiness

Madness

 A break from boredom

But when a

  Young lass

Requests a donation

  To commit a certain

Act of debauchery

 Nothing defines

Waste more than

 A requirement

To wear a flunky
 when receiving

A bob on the knob

i am

a Rotten son of a bitch

It says so

Right here

It was my

 Birth given

name

It came with a

 Lack of compassion

Selfishness

&

 Greed

I knew of

 Nothing else

   Experienced

Nothing else

 Felt even less

The only time

 I’m more than this

   Is when I am

In my sleeping

 State of mind

A state where

I

Alone exist

thank you

is all the broad

say

 as we lay

next to one another

 after bodies sweating

the street light

 peeking through

the rip

 in the curtain

the whizzing

  of the ceiling fan blowing

cold welcomed air

no other sounds heard

 or words said

laid up

  staring in to the

back of my mind

   recycling thoughts

that led us here

just an easy escape

  with an uncomplicated

break

what happened

to that little girl

with little fingers

little toes

big smile

the little girl

who i rocked

back and forth

paced

back and forth with

because she could

not find comfort

on her own

the little girl

i held so tightly

and could not

let go

no matter how

painful

her screams were

the little girl

who i played

dolls with

pushed on the swings

chased after

in the park

the little girl

who needed me

depended on me

she is now

growing up

becoming

her own

as i continue

to devote myself

patiently waiting

for her to return

excuses

 

Getting drunk is easy

Recovering is the

Hardest part

Trying to remember

The embarrassment

You spilled is distant

Piecing things together

Trying to figure

Out who needs an apology

Turns out to be anyone

You had contact with

It’s all forgiven

Always blame alcohol

clarinet

how is it

that she can

be so polished

symmetrical from

where her most

inner thoughts

take place

to where she

lays imprints

that produce

a following

of worshippers

who would offer

up their devotion

if given the blessing

to be within

her breathing space

to take in

her angelic presence

and hang on every

word that she exhales

as these words

play a

melodic composition

that sends you

in to euphoria

if only

chance existed