Lifetime Addiction

Nicotine
you make my blood stream scream,
and I dream
of a day where I won't need your say
how my body should work,
please shirk, off my skin,
the duty within should be
cleansed with opportunity.

For,
I cannot see what is essentially me.
The way things should be
grow free,
like grass around a tree.

Addicted to your pain,
pleasure's taken with a grain
of salt.
Feign to be at fault
for my actions, reactions,
and especially inactions.

You are what makes me suffer,
you are what makes me struggle,
for, I am usually A-O.K.
unless my thoughts are muddled.

It is then that I reach for your malice,
and grasp a golden chalice
to forgive me of my sinful say
to let you in, by force
of fallacy.

It kills me, it does,
and, in response is thus:
To softly sigh and die of smoke
is not a lifestyle, but a joke.

So toke until you croak
and know that it is true, that
life will be vain,
death will be pain,
you'll die and join the queue.

VIP (Vaguely Imported Peripheral)

Do not capsule what shall capsize,
as such acts would be an injustice-
and capture no such prize.

Ingenuity has remarked withal
that patterns have begun to sprawl
and spire within the sun.

Contort to contend with him,
a placemat for his door,
to spend and sin this time
to win?

Not to the likes of me
my hindu friend has victory
ever underachieved an award
so great in pleasure-
so grand in spirit.

Maybe a certain 50-something-%
will hate, will hang, or hold
it to you for all eternity.

Then, of your own people will
mockeries be made;
examples in wax and artifice,
and mystics used to raid,
rob the blind,
repel the strong
from their heavy heart.

Their heavy mechanical heart
that ticks like a clock,
ticking away endless hours
that are left until
a certain impending doom
will have its way,
will rain someday.