motherfucker, did I sound abstract?

I took this photograph soaking wet, after an 8-ball cataract. He wrote his own eulogy with cocaine hands, heroin arms, novocain undies. I've been at OTB with a stub and a heart murmur, a flask and a fanny pack.
Daddy needs a new Megatron, baby.
A train wreck waiting to happen. Spelled out in refrigerator magnets:
G-R-O-W-N-A-S-S-M-A-N
I don't have grit, it's all teenage poetry.
I'm a martyr without a cause.