My First Poem; Written Five Years Prior To 2001

It was sad and needed stitches
With a stink of booze and bitches

Alone it felt, the ink was calm
A chiseled chunk from my left palm

A hollow candy filled with thought
But cavity too soon begot

The staircase to the attic soft
Collapsed amidst the poet’s loft

Of scrambled eggs and buttered toast
Shared calories whipped up by most

But I owe much unto this day
For had I not, I cannot say