Something to Get Used To

He leapt from the ruin he incubated The black ink falling and fading As his body grew close to the puddles And the earth. But even the dirt Didn't want him. No, he couldn't Even reach the bottom, just hung Like a tongue on blotter. Floating Like trash on the water So stinking and absent he flew Some paranoid bat, drunk and unglued His poems all broke free like an Angel in agony, when missing the Last bus to Heaven, and staining Your pearly white coat on cheap Wine and dirty brown dope. So is This the part where I tear out my Heart and say, "Baby, oh baby, yer Gone." Just like in all those other Songs, when a baby gets gone. Well it Just doesn't hit like it used to and I guess that's just something to get used to