Bad habits

Sinking into a sea

Of wasted youth and

Dirty thoughts of

Jerking off in dorm-room floors.



Floating to a padded room

With cushioned voices

And distorted disorders.

I guess my way of life is

A bit shit and lacking.

I don’t fit the bill of the majority

In fact I struggle with normality.

Lung function is impaired

Far beyond all repair,

No care.

Nourishment appropriate for a body

Is not a priority, as I disguise

Hunger pangs with highs,

Though disappointment forever lies

At the bottom of the bag.

Not unlike an alcoholics sad taste

For constant, disruptive self-release

Restless vices

Foreboding calm

Disruptive descent into

Vicious relent, complete irresponsibility

Lack of social stability

Throwing out dollars like cents

Into shallow laced vents

Holy shit, I’m spent

Like my rent


5 thoughts on “Bad habits

  1. There’s a kinetic energy to this poem, the way each line tumbles over into the next, the stutter in the rhythm here and there, like a drunk facing the uncomfortable truth as he stumbles out of the bar at 2 in the morning, knowing he’ll be back as soon as they open the doors again. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, and found myself relating to a fair bit of it.


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