Sex, Drugs, and Ignorant Critics

I got your picture plastered

upon my wall.

It's your ego I'm after;

I can't wait to see you fall.

I have this one nightmare,

my fingers tight around your hair,

fog engulfs the windows,

our entwined bodies bare.

This expedition for

recognition

has erased my thoughts,

I kissed you without cognition,

or maybe it was the pot.

Your ingenuity

makes me willingly

and easily

scream your Eulogy.