i see flaws, everywhere:

the skewed clock on the plastered wall;
the faces flashing past the curtain call;
the faithless creed of heathens, and sleazeballs;
the smiles that hide the symptoms of withdrawal;

i feel a claw at my throat:

a sliver of smoke swivels up my chest -
shapes a shackle around my neck;
i lay here, trapped - neither coping, nor hoping;
i wonder - is that why they call it chain smoking?

i see laws bent out of shape:

the policemen advantaging off exposed women;
the two-faced lawyers in courts, who summon -
the men questioned of their dignity, and religion;
the reporters come drooling, for a big fat commission.  

i seek help:

the therapists diagnose me for a cerebral disorder;
they fail to put their words in the right order -
to put me at ease in the right frame of mind, so -  
i accept my flaws under a contract, signed.