This is How You Drive Six Feet of Piss

The title of this poem came to me in a dream.

My stubborn habits alter not by time,

They are the same today as yesterday,

Unheeding the expanse I fall or climb,

Neglecting the portion I have today.

What leeway of the world I turn aside

It's hard to say; my words fall short, my sight,

And heart, intelligence, and will, elide

A lonely truth, which here demands my might:

Words, actions, habits, character—in short:

Those things unseen but seen, compose the road

That I must take, to aim my time athwart

And interdict my thoughts beyond this ode.

Yet you to me have nothing been but fair,

My misused words prove not how much I care.