In My Defense, I Was Already Fired: A Poem

Another drink and I’m drunk
and not allowed to drive.
Another day and I’m doomed
a dead duck.
Another watershed moment
wielding a maraca like a mace.
I’m fine with your findings
allow me to defenestrate.
Paranoia, you say?
Pish-posh.
Emasculation the cause
of my career ending crash?
Perhaps it’s just what happens
when you’re a pushover and a half.
Bed is where I belong
before I do something bad,
Like lipstick your louvers
with a letter of discontent.
You see me as slovenly
but I assure you I am
As regally rude
as Alan Rickman.