The Perfect Drug

They say it heals all things those dealers known as “they”

That’s them, there…see em? Dangling on the second slow hand.

Doling out justice while examining all offenders.

Willy writes the slogans for their band.


Where are “they” when the pain won’t stop?

Why won’t they show you the plan?

The methadone is mean in Greenwich man

Represent you atomic never never land.

Indentured lovers lobby for raises

High on the thought of infinity.

Their hearts chained with keyless locks

Their thoughts reeling in rerun memory.

Damn that fucking drug.

You know the one.

The one that’s free but priceless.

The one you can’t own but you can use.

It won’t be kept, but can be spent

The one we treasure, waste, want and  abuse.

C’mon, you know the one

Vegas doesn’t have it.

The one that stops for no man.

The one that is everything,

The one that he promised he would always have enough of

Until he overdosed on its premature release.