A bit of coke,
little drag of smoke,
nothing suits me
like the
sip of gin
trickling down

               your lips

I’m hoping for an ashtray,
a pinch of crystal on
my wrists to feed
these veins
from a dehydrated paroxysm

Never settle for a
sober embrace or
the scent of your

             showered skin

But I’ll take the drug,
the need
             (a scar)

to burn naked purity
if it means I’ll
always be gone