when the nights are free

Hey Bud! What are you doing tonight?
I'm going to drink a bottle of wine,
write a couple of poems,
and then I'm going to bed.
sounds good! We want to come over and spend time with you.
no.
why?
I drink alone. I prefer it that way.
did you know that you're an alcoholic if you drink alone?
does it matter?
I hang up the receiver.

somehow they don't seem to understand that nights are better spent alone.
their fake-framed smiles sucking on my bottle
of wine when I
could be writing for the insane
rotting in jail cells and straight jackets.

they need it the most.
you need it the most.

these walls and crickets
don't drink,
argue, or smile.
they create their own
presence..

you crazy son of a bitch, drink your wine!
go mad, you're insane! you'll never make it as a writer.
you'll starve trying!

baby, I'll be damned if this
wall will stop me.

chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp

ah,
peace at last.