As someone as pervy as I am,
Never did it come to mind
That ***’s allure
Can be murky, impure
And to some degree, best left behind.

As a depressed individual,
I’d never thought it could be
That I would become
So disgusted and numb
By the wonderful drug; ecstasy.

But furthermore, music, I miss you.
Once you were more than just racket.
So, surf rock, I plea,
Won’t you please unleash me?
I’ll ride on your waves till you hack it.

These, I had thought, were in nature
The typical things we enjoy.
Euphoric, complete,
With a strong rhythmic beat,
And the feeling of girls, or of boys.

Though cravings for these are all vacant.
No ***, meds and no poetry.
A sensation drought,
From searing to burnout.
A ghost of a long deceased me.