As a writer (or someone who writes.)

I know that I spill words
more when
I've been smoking too much
and my head aches
just as much as
that foolish organ
they've named
the heart.

I've recently been caught up
in my new friend
alcohol,
and it taught me
how to truly fly
whilst memories
of my folks
had buried me way under
silly conceptions
of wrong and right.

My glass has been shaking
in my hand
for a while now
and my pillow
has honesty spots
of dried drool from last
night's take on the world
but I will not spill
any more
unless it's down
my own throat.