Midnight

I once was eloquent, frequenting words larger than myself.

Well, maybe not words so much, but ideas anyway.

I have always been full of fuck and shit, but I was eloquent.

Coffee, cigarrettes, pen and paper, never enough.

Goddamn it was good.

Starving for everything and freedom from the same.

Candle light my canvas, youth my muse and morning never came.

Perkins was open late and I think the waitress liked me.

Back when I was moved

When I was moving.

Now I give my day for that dollar and morning is always imminent.

Freedom from nothing, starving still and more full of shit than fuck.

Yes, I once was significant, even if no one knew.