Just because you walked in dark alleys
and awakened with the stench of booze,
knew every inch of the bar flies you used,
you have no corner market on
the depth of pain
and your scorn for those
in starched white shirts,
toiling above you in towers,
blinds what you think is
your all seeing eye
and makes me wonder
if you're as smart as
you think.
Your ink can be genius
but your judgment is harsh.
Sometimes,
your voice is as
guilty
as those you accuse.
(will I lose a son over this??)


