A Day in the Life of an Old Friend
Posted: April 8th, 2011, 10:57 am
The anticipation is only surpassed
by the tar-drenched cascading smoke,
desperate lungs wait like baby birds
for mama to regurgitate the morning meal
evil ogre nicotine oozes
imbues each and every panting cell
tricks her weary brain into thinking
everything is alright, she devoutly believes
low tar and menthol are for pussies,
collateral damage is meaningless
to a daredevil who has seen the gates
of hell ajar, does not expect the sun to rise
each day, the whiskey is a balm to her
tortured throat, the awesome tag-team of relief
the soul drain of career, the body jabs
of family crisis, she can't remember
if the rye tastes good, or if her response
is just a cheesy reward for a rat in a drain,
"It's funny !"....Dr. Quack wont' inject her temples
with cortisone though he doesn't mind
" hooking up two-bit rock stars in search
of magic pills to get them going, stronger
fucking ones to make them stop, or what about
the fake-titted wannabe starlets
with their significant sugar-daddies that pull
the strings to ensure the smorgasbord
of brightly colored wafers for the zombie-fest
the birth of all-night nympho marathons,
a fucking boundless pharmacy for the moneyed
takers, the doc with the scruple
that cannot be seen with the naked eye",
my friend says that it's everyone around her
the reason she got this way, that hey c'mon
we all need a vice or two
a drag, a shot, a pinch,
a silent scream
by the tar-drenched cascading smoke,
desperate lungs wait like baby birds
for mama to regurgitate the morning meal
evil ogre nicotine oozes
imbues each and every panting cell
tricks her weary brain into thinking
everything is alright, she devoutly believes
low tar and menthol are for pussies,
collateral damage is meaningless
to a daredevil who has seen the gates
of hell ajar, does not expect the sun to rise
each day, the whiskey is a balm to her
tortured throat, the awesome tag-team of relief
the soul drain of career, the body jabs
of family crisis, she can't remember
if the rye tastes good, or if her response
is just a cheesy reward for a rat in a drain,
"It's funny !"....Dr. Quack wont' inject her temples
with cortisone though he doesn't mind
" hooking up two-bit rock stars in search
of magic pills to get them going, stronger
fucking ones to make them stop, or what about
the fake-titted wannabe starlets
with their significant sugar-daddies that pull
the strings to ensure the smorgasbord
of brightly colored wafers for the zombie-fest
the birth of all-night nympho marathons,
a fucking boundless pharmacy for the moneyed
takers, the doc with the scruple
that cannot be seen with the naked eye",
my friend says that it's everyone around her
the reason she got this way, that hey c'mon
we all need a vice or two
a drag, a shot, a pinch,
a silent scream