Living under the bridge actually allows me to see the sun whenever I feel like it
Though the cost of this view is an awful and pungent stench
It reminds me of the time that I used to make the rounds on garbage collection day
Lifting the lids and searching for scraps of metal to trade for what I thought was my powdery God.
Serves me right that I gave too much of myself to help my fellow man
Whatever I had in my possession, I would find a way to donate it away
But what got me in trouble was that big love affair I had with my soul-sucking demon
I would shower it with attention until I could not lift a finger to ask for a measly slice of heaven.
I used to be a player, I used to like to smile, now I have nothing to show for travelling all of those miles
I have lost what I had, two kids and a spouse, I have lost my drive and focus, no longer living in earnest.
I gave and I gave what I had to give; though it was not enough, I lost my true love
Then the blame came and the rains overcame, but not my shame; that has stayed and I now display the picture of addiction.
Give me my crack pipe, give it to me, I insist that you give me what has taken my hope away
From the upper echelons, I have fallen flat; from a life of love and hope, I now have crap.
I am a self-conscious bastard, a failure as a man and Dad; I am unworthy and hollow, I can barely swallow.
WIth every beat of my failing cardiac pump, I am one use closer to my one final jump.
Give me my crack pipe, give it to me now
Just hand it over or else I will have to furrow my brow.
Is half a man able to relate? Is 50% enough to tell the tale
Of how I used to love and live in freedom from this crack whale?
YOU ARE READING
Give Me My Crack Pipe
PoetryI've got a heavy load of high as a ceiling, sleep-depriving thieves.
