(“..pardon me while I burst..”) but

poetry is my drug -
I’ve injected my surfacing thoughts on many tables
                                  over many nights
my own reflection stuck in permanent glass..
but now I’m slowly running out of veined vanity

it was never mine to own anyway..

this world is a freebase for words
these words are tweaking on walls
those walls are crushing the wails
that wail is the fix for the whole world..