Indian Ink and Bar Stools

I own very little
I have done my poet part to diminish

Jack Kerouac, Toaist ideals, and Chuck Palaniuk
have Thoroughly infected me

I own what I spend
to my irrational ends
to get the feelings of blending in

I cannot take the drinks alone much longer
I begin walking in circles once more
Bar tabs and the shaking of hands
time spent lyrically on paper
I need a refreshing ink to write it all away

Tonight I will sit on this cold bar stool and contemplate it all away

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