Champagne taste with a shoestring budget.

I am back to square one.
Learning to crawl I sit in my own emissions
and wallow in my own filth.

I've forgotten how to be a man,
how to take it when its good
and drop it when its
so bad.

I spend too much time wondering
instead of just knocking down the wall
and letting the chips fall wherever
they may.

And the middle class shivers
and jingles their keys
and they toast their martinis
to their mediocre lives.
With 2.5 children and a fresh
green
American Express
with their name on it.

"Valued Customer"

I in my designer jeans
call them dillitantes
of luxury and life.

How clever I am -
but I cant stand the thought
of looking less than
polished.

I preach life in its rawest
but I don't like hotel rooms
without a refrigerator.

Is it so much more noble
to have a gut and a closet full
of irony?

Bukowski would spit on my grave.
But why should I care what he thinks?
After all he left a long time ago
and took all the good writing with him.

None of this matters.
I should probably just shut up
and find a career.

Or a better way to support my champagne habits.