If one compressed a smile into

A brew, a concoction, a molecular grin.

Would you trade what makes you who are ,

for the artificial kindness within?


If what once could flood a page with words

From tobacco clouds and whiskey rain,

Was that which sent you off, and into

The nether kingdom of Dante's reign.  

Would you become a soldier

For a life of Chemical Happiness?


I would sooner swallow my sadness.

For at least I know it is natural.