Keep your liquor and your meth cigarettes;
stow away your needles and white powder.
My mind craves stimulation without sweats
caused by vices others choose for regrets.
Give me words, inky scrawl across a page,
the fluid cadence of a verbal dance
freeing the psyche from an iron cage
imprisoned by a mundane daily trance.
Prohibit fresh diction to discover
the foul temper that lies within my breast.
Prevent access to verse and uncover
an exhausted maudlin beast is expressed.
I get my fix within a library.
It’s cheap to be hooked onto poetry.