imagine a cigarette burning in the ashtray, half gone, a half-gone (perhaps, half poured) glass of wiskey and ginger ale. (it's fucking parody)

yeah, i'm trying to get out a draft of another poem.

this time i'm agonizing over each line i've written so far, becase i'm trying to put into words what's been strafing me for a week now. (my angst is so substantial and so deserved)

all of that, and i absolutely must be at work at 9:00 tomorrow, or my boss will have my head.

i need a shrink, and a patron.

so i can engage in my self-pity and self-loathing on a full-time basis.