He Wears Flamboyant Socks

A drink you buy
a drink you swallow
with it comes gangrene
gregarious like jokes
the room fills with smoke
words mangled and laid on lips
of those undeserving
feet tired from weeks of wandering
of mind and industry
friends start jeering
snagged in the bars and the streets
teeth of bartenders
show smiles
take tips
where are the fireworks of youth
the women
the idolization of self
music now private
thoughts eaten by food
rotting meat in the head
take a minute
and then take more
outward buffoon
inward savant of time
and space
kept words
missteps to now
lost when found is maxim
of baby born
new
only dead lovers would
comfort
and
they speak
of dirt
the graveyards
a
slumber
slippery and spoken for
so I remain awake
and sick
on a stomach filled with
god