I am not your breaktime deed --
That cigarette you roll
Between your fingertips.

I am not your black bow --
The one that you wear
When you're on call.

I am not your alcohol --
That bottle on your lips
And your face to the floor.

I am not your suede shoes --
Your night time glitter
In your daytime locker.

I am not your perfume --
Bottled and locked,
Always consumed.

I am not your secret --
A kept thought
Inside your head.

I am not your personal thing --
You neither own me
Nor use me.

I am your drugs --
And I brim your head
With what you think
Is true.