It took a mountain top of drugs
and a cabinet full of alcohol
to numb the obsessions and the cravings
for the perplex taste of the spittle
that always collected in the corner of your mouth
and for the protruding veins which gathered
in the crook of your arm
and freckle at the base of your spine.

It took a mountain top of drugs
and a cabinet full of alcohol
to numb the obsessions,
and the cravings
and the infatuation
with calling you mine.