old saying

Before writing the nights away
I worked seven days a week
Impossible hours, impossible conditions
Year after year after year
Never missing one day

Then the economy collapsed
I got stuck working just forty five hours a week
Instead of a hundred and ten
Rotting and wasting, getting in trouble
Losing my mind

I started writing; poems, stories, novels,
I was addicted immediately
Now I sit and drink and smoke and write
Deep into the night
Churning out work after work after work

As I think of it, I have actually managed
to combine workaholism and alcoholism
and now I cannot stop either.
Frying pan and fire;
not just an old saying