Youth, failures, judgments:
Blended to abstraction and a
Set jaw: get around the way
You wished things could have
Come out, and as I write poems
I continue to issue instruction that
I am not meant to follow, more like
Ironic cautionary tales, scribbled as
Aphorisms and distracted from
Every occurrence that made its
Acquaintance with party, addiction,
Alcohonda; driven like a car
Across a faceless crowd
Full of shoulders and scared
Off of my nerves: another instruction
Get your eyes on your page
Don't consider a sage
And smell all that you
Would have gotten up close to
Reconsider those times
And transport one self
To the day that is here
Roman Ryan 