Hunger Pains

I may be awake,
but nothing
seems real,
faces in the streets
look like empty dinner plates;
I'm starving.

Hungry for recognition,
yet I don't recognize
anything that I've written;
who knows who
will find me when I've given
up on trying
to make a living,
writing to make
my name known.

So tell me
what I've got left
to look forward to
when I can't see
what's in front of me;
I can barely remember
my past,
let alone
what happened
last night.

Label me
with your cliches and crutches,
I can't walk
a straight line without
opening another bottle,
so hold me over
the line and the limit,
but remember
I have no desire
for either;
smashed
on the pavement,
left to write,
my only light
comes from picking through
the broken pieces.