Poem: Still Not Very Good

in the old days, I’d sit and shit out words in a bar or café,

scrawling down and through the paper, my beer or coffee in the corner just waiting for Instagram to be invented.

my smoke lingering but no fire, just spleen being vented. I’d struggle to read back my own handwriting, and type up just what I could decipher.

This is a tribute to those old days. A …