Each time around,
I can feel
The amphetamines fading,
And depression bearing down.
Torn muscles and careless cuts give hints
That I’m addicted to nicotine mints:
My chemical parachute
Made from an old torn sheet
Still can’t cushion the pain
From five straight days on my feet.
Some synthetic opiods please,
Supposedly non-addictive,
Simply a temporary ease,
And oh so maledictive,
Just give me a handgun.