CHEAP AT HALF THE COST

Getting out
from the asylum
of my childhood,
I put guns
and words,
whores
and nice pretty girls,
whiskey & dope,
books & bromides,
between
the chambers
of my heart.
It cost
whatever it did
then
which I never thought
overpriced.
Now,
my legs are shot,
my lungs
closing,
my pump
rewired,
some toes
swim
with the fish',
but the pen
still flashes
imperial sparks.
Even if I knew
all of that then
it would still have been cheap;
not that I knew
any better way.