Bohemianism

20 years of beating the hell out of my insides
And I'm finally out of the joint
With the rest of the human race
If anyone asked me to go back
I'd damn near break my neck fleeing from them.
I wouldn't own it.

Apparently back home
in Massachusetts
I'm called a Bohemian 
As always 6 of 1
Half dozen of the others
(The others being a twangy voice, some bartender,
A counterman, the sea, a mongoose and a Bellevue)

I've started dressing in the cast off clothes of these friends
Their overcoats, their suites,
Their shirts and even their shoes.
The only thing that fits me nowerdays are bitter New England winters
And a layer of newspaper.

Unusual
One summer evening party
Spent in a sear-sucker suite
Just to prove that I'm all Hand-me-downs
A crumpled cigarette picked up off the sidewalk
Anyways
This lifestyle is overrated
Bohemianism has aged
Considerably beyond its years...
...I'd guess by about 260-270 now.

I wrote that poem a while ago and have just gotten around to posting it here and on Facebook.  It kind of explains the sense of total abandon I'm feeling at the moment with this semi-huge problem I've created for myself to conquer...

Thats a really innaproriate term for this situation but I think I will let it slide by just for now, just this once, as I have for every oppertunity that has come my way...

-chris