I need to stop drinking, overeating, lack of sleeping and a few other things.

I need to stop spending, bending the truth, and missing my poops.

Who cares if I share, constantly stare or talk like a rambling rogue.

The matter is grave, when I spend what I save, and hide all day in my cave.

What about my soul when I forget to think, or stand on the brink or act like a dink?

Stand on the bring is a bit of a stretch and so is save and cave.

But I am trying to find a pattern to the ‘hole in my soul’.

There is a void that tends to fill up with the nearest thing at hand when it is left or neglected for long periods of time.

Craving and paving, will to power, bad substitutes for basic needs and complicated deeds.

A calling like poetry acts like a balm to a sore self.

The ante is getting too rich for me:  my payment is better than death and taxes, love or life, or blood and tears.

“There And Back Again”, no pattern or analogy is sufficient.

Better try some good ones.