Breakfast of Champions

Imported beer and fingernails inflame my lyric flare, spark my anxious urge to create something quotable, splurge into visions of sugarplums, flights of pure fancy, 'til I have a poem distilled in my brain. The struggle to articulate's an agonizing process, making mountains out of molehills and silk purses from sows' ears, perched at my computer with my dreams and foolish wishes. So I'll chew another fingernail, free a beer from the refrigerator, write another witty verse to share with who knows whom. I'll keep shunning good nutrition and be grateful to my muse 'til they lay me cold and lifeless in my tomb!