In Which I Think The Ol' 9-5 (7:30-4?) is Draining My Creativity Away.

gimme that old-time
vice, baby, that
good-time
need-escape
colour
because how can you live
so grey so icebox grey
and sharp-edged
without something
to keep you
awake,
let alone alive --
what's alive, anyway,
sweetheart?
unless you're talking
blood-pumping brain-waving
takemeouttahere
altered states or
human contact,
and any of those
more than once a week
will only leave you
steel-greyer,
straight-colder than before.