convenience is making me cold

sucking down the abstract

wrecking the body and mind i felt the fire

because saying crap like that just makes it sound better than

chugging bourbon, blacking out and being a fucking mess

because saying it like that

just makes you want to leave a legacy that Bukowski already did

and it's not the 60s and we don't represent the poor, lost soul anymore

because we can Google our futures and Instagram our progress

because well

and we went to college

and we have cellphone bills to pay 

so not having a job

and sitting in an apartment-sized Pretoria dish growing this bacteria 

these oozing musings

this sick little experiment called being an artist

has too many variables

see, we can't risk it, now

but having a plan B, is a lot like having no dream, at all

Teach me how to want something purely;

the distractions are the only bacteria that manifest long enough in me

am i product of sucking down the succulent abstract

and pissing away the concrete.

whiskey,

honey whiskey, i left at your house

just in case you miss me

and when you're drunk you text me

'i am the liquor, baby'

yeah, you my whiskey, honey