EVERY NIGHT I SPIT A BIT

what goes on now

as I sit here
sucking on a beer
and staring at
a nice green shirt
lovely haircut
I think of pills and essays
I’d give my head for diving pools
and crossing bays
I still can smell my feet
from the ground
then shoot from distance at a crowd
and with all this terrible noise
I might even forget
the night and day
but I’ll never care of writing down
what danger I could say