deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Little Weed
At one time I began to drift
Words wafted into a rift
Landed hard on Saturday
Their sense lost along the way
I've tried to organize my thoughts
Poured a multitude of shots
At the last I drew a blank
Another writer in the tank
Now I'm living high and dry
My smoke curling to the sky
The vodka didn't fill this need
For inklings with a little weed.
Words wafted into a rift
Landed hard on Saturday
Their sense lost along the way
I've tried to organize my thoughts
Poured a multitude of shots
At the last I drew a blank
Another writer in the tank
Now I'm living high and dry
My smoke curling to the sky
The vodka didn't fill this need
For inklings with a little weed.
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