I am so undignified After work is done. I am so alone, After the sun falls beneath the horizon. I stay woke, singing the chorus of a song you never heard. I feel my fingertips tired and sore, looking overworked and ugly. Who ever said I couldn't get home well take a look right here at my poetry I've written these words for you and you and me and her I am writing these words because my brain cannot contain them anymore. I am desperate for you and I will be until I die When did I get it in my head to write like a beatnik? I am never going to be famous for these simple works wrought in solitude I am not quite the talent that I always wished I would be.
