The Donor Liver

The Donor Liver

I wonder how someone waiting for a
donor liver might feel about my life.
They'd say I should be in jail
maybe that I should be dead

Two fifths of 92 proof rum in two days
When I should have got therapy instead
6 felonies committed
Not one less, and maybe more

A drunk drive that's now no more than a haze
Trying to drive from the things in my head
Through campus and to her place
I drove fine, I watched my speed.

My latest female said I was crazy
So that's why she threw an ashtray at my head
And left a hole in her wall
and one in my heart to match

I got two slices of spinach-feta
And a big-ol' drink that was flavored red.
It was made even better
With some good Coconut rum

I stole Two-hundred dollars worth of books
I piled them in my arms and fled
My thanks to Barnes & Noble.
Readings' better when it's free.

I saw that tall, gray eyed ex-Girlfriend too
on a date, this time with a girl instead.
I pounded on the window
and gave them each the finger

I drove off and didn't see even one cop.
I drove slow, and merged to traffic ahead.
At home, I poured some more rum
and brooded about the girl

Sailor Jerry didn't turn my brain off.
Magic mushrooms opened it up, I spread
out, giggled and faced Jor-El
He prepared me for my death.

But I lived and had another day
of drinking, insanity, and of dread.
The next night was nearly worse
but I shan't talk about that.