I’m too fucked up
to care
& all I heard
was write like Keats
& make the bleeding hearts
cream in their jeans.
But that just
wasn’t my scene
to bootleg emotion
& sell it in a bottle
at premium cost.
Duty free love
wasn’t available
& I ended up
in a mess again.
I’ll make them wade
through the muck
just to find
that one singular jewel.