Weaving the intracasies of daily thought

Into a palatable serving for others eyes,

Is no small undertaking and requires

More that just a jumble of words served.

Bear with me, as the words come to me

And I try to paste only the best

Onto a sheet of blank paper, in triumphant

Of mind over matter. Think it's easy, try it.

In my days of drunken stupor,

I was never at a loss for words.

O the poor listeners, how they left,

And I found myself my only company.