Here I sit
Eating banoffi
Slurping my coffee
Watching the world walk on by
When suddenly
It catches my eye
A sign that says
‘FREE RENT FOR WRITERS…
AS LONG AS YOU CAN WRITE’
I can write with the best of them
So all I’d to do was meet the landlord
Feed him some shite
About my intent
To make it big time
Move my furniture in
Start to live like a king
Penniless but sublime
Nonetheless
Of course
There would be a severe pressure to impress
I drink another coffee
Chew at my banoffi
Good, good toffee
How was I able to do this
Until after I’d sorted the welfare
The apartment would have to remain relatively bare
Or fill it with old poems
Then it’ll really start to feel like home
Will people think me pretentious
Maybe
I guess
But who cares
Third coffee now
And I’m all the more ready
To reap what I sow
I dunno
Maybe I’m just feeling the buzz
Thinking too much
Maybe some guy more deserving gets it
Guy with cancer
No such chancer
Leaves his wigs about the apartment
Either way
I’ve to go for it
Let my parents live alone
Again
I’ve done my time
Their time
Promised I’d move on out
Once the OCD alleviated
I was starting to feel closer to sublime
They’ve been so good to me
Helping my mother with the dishes
Does fill me with a certain sense of glee
Maybe it’s me
But I need to rein it in
Drink far less coffee
Stay with my folks a little longer
Until I’m caffeine-free
To mention but one
All the stronger
Pay them back for their support
By being what I always promised to be
A real son

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