Confessions of a Modern Day Ahab

I have a too-nice apartment
on Main Street in a hip town
that I can barely afford
now that I've fired her.

I have a trade that'd make me
a hell of a buck if only
the economy was better
and there was enough work
to go around.

I have friends
whom I can throw
farther than I can trust.
I have a lot of nights in bed.

I have a father twelve miles away
who denies my existence
despite my desperate letters
and thirst to break the curse.

I have an addictive personality
that gets me in just enough trouble
to make me feel alive
with its consequences.

I have a penchant for drinking
alone at home or in crowds
and swear the bottle off
at least thrice per week.

I have a smoker's cough
that'll undeniably turn
to cancer one day or another.

I walk around with a gun
and act like it'll save me.

I'm a grower, not a shower.

I have an ex who finally realizes
that despite my faults
I was right.
I have a lot of exes
in various boats
and mental albums.
Most of it upstairs is skewed
so I can paint it over.

I fall in love with random
strangers in public
multiple times a week
with the excuse
that I have a sixth sense
for beauty.

I'm terrible at sleeping alone.

I can drink you under the table
and out of the closet.
I'll probably ask to try
or try to ask.

My eventual triumph
will be far more
monumental
than anything
your degree promised you
as I laugh all the way
to the unemployment line.

I'm twenty-seven
finally living
and wouldn't trade it
for the world.
Hallelujah, motherfucker.