Lines Unclean*


You were never my adaptogen

getting me on the right path again;

feeding me what I need,

awake or asleep-


an antidote to help me cope,

my riddalin to help riddle again,

a blow of coke to make a joke,

a shot to the skin to feel livid again.

You were every kryptonite

twenty-twenty in my sight,

blowing smoke in mirrors

wish I could have seen it clear-

but all I could hear was the glass shatter of beer,

as your fists grew near.

You do it because you love me,

I'll say it because if not, I'll whelve deep 

as upon my knees

you laid to me a reason

to never expect when I give

that I shall recieve.


You were every drug

when I just needed to be clean.


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