Honey Glazed Ham

i left my window open and now in the livlyness of night i quiver and shake.
everything alive around me but my own aching back.
should i howl at the moon? undernieth these ruins of skin.
nobody knows where i've been, i've got a young face.
i'll grow a beard and still get snickery sneers.
back to the bottle. markers and pens. broken paper and crumble pencils.
good thing i don't use a typewriter. my paperback is a token of appreciation to being broken.
and how could i afford the ink? i don't need to fill up, but rather float down.
with my halo'd crown. and drown in the cold bed. i can't even lift my blankets to warm up.
keys strokes awaken the whole house, and after almost 24 hours of off again on typing till dawn,
i've got to pick the muck from nieth my finger nails. the coagulated blood.
sure the only constant is change, but i've even managed to skrew that up. stuck in my own ever-staying the

same.
a hot shower will do me good. but i can't stop 5000, 6000, 7000 words or more not including so on and so

fourth.
with a small break to synthisize my want to stay in sync with the rest of the world.
i got to get to the girl. someone who'll kick my ass to sleep, and make me feel less than cheap. but who's

kisses speak.
and that all i know is what she never and vice versa.
i can tell by her eyes that we're gonna get along. she's cute. she'd cut. what do they think of me?
what kind of first impressions do i give off??
that of a sheltered droid going through the motions of being undergroud?
are my aliases obsoleate? do i return to the days of lighter girls and drunken binges in parking structures?
minus the parking structures and lighter girls? ahh but too soon see how it's now and how it's that much

closer to noon.
time for a nap
good-bye tree. good-bye flower. good-bye grass and little insects i may kill walking out of here. it was destiny.
don't you know who i am??
honey glased HAM.