(Poem composed on the spot in a bar in Berkeley in 2007 to impress a girl. Drawing composed in a pizza joint in Newport in 2011 to impress nobody in particular.)

Drank himself a grave at twenty-one.
He loved his mirth, he loved his fun.
He loved his mum and he loved his dad.
He loved the good, he loved the bad.
He loved the rich and he loved the poor.
But the sad truth is he loved liquor more.