A Sober Writer (Legend or Myth)

Legends are those things with funny legs and just one eye and giants, fire breathing dragon Gods, the bearded man and his water to wine trick.  
Myths are those things with bright metal wings and a midnight rose asleep for one thousand years, and the pretty dog laughed to see such fun and the i-Robot film...  
I think but often I'm not sure for a bit, the quick education on Google doesn't really tick  
Godly knowledge.
 
A pheonix could fly on the nights line when it is ever pronounced pho-en-ix.  
Emmerdale lost that epic country extravegancer as it always had at the beginning of each episode.  
The eclairs lost their freshly whiped cream, when bought from FarmFoods. That's what happens when you don't have a job
and it's cheap to get fat.
 
I take another toke and ponder all this but as soon as my fingers stop touching the keys
with inspiration I know I'll be rolling another.
Lost in the half-hazy cloud. It's a latch on the stubborn, open  
window.