I Won’t Write/Right You.

I won’t write you to waste too many words, When ……. We’re so close. To the end. I won’t knock it until I’ve tried it, But the feeling of fear it Feels like coming down again . I’m a failure, sure. But I don’t brag to my friends. They couldn’t even write me to say it was the end . But there we go with that old gag; Jokes on me, wish I could work up a laugh. I wouldn’t rather be fishing. I’d rather be sit on the shore. I wake up, wishing. For….. for something….. Something more. My spirit, – I didn’t even sell it,see I tried. But it was bitter and dried , Burnt to the core By cigarettes and whores By cigar butts and worse By needle tips and wars And hedonic trips - GALORE. I wouldn’t rather be fishing. I’d rather sit on the shore. I wake up wishing, For…. For something….. Something more. But for now, I’ll fill the void with whatever will prevent me from being so damn bored. I’ll do my damnedest To do all I can; Just wish there was a “junkie of the year“ award. Grand Prize. “Score”. I wouldn’t rather be fishing. I’d rather sit on the shore. I wake up wishing Wishing for Something Something more. I would not rather be fishing I’m done wasting pennies well-wishin’ No, I would not need a cane pole or a watering hole, Just a cocained nose and to “water my rose”. I would not rather be fishing, no no no no no……