This is a "poem?" It looks like a dribble to me. What the hell? Do I get to say something banal about my day, call it a poem, and get dozens of favs?
I sit down on the tilting chair - Broken as so many other things are - The hammer of the piledriver across the street Beats in time with my heart My head pounds in rhythm. I wish I had a whiskey and a whore right now.