deepundergroundpoetry.com

Meet my friend Mr Charlie Dealer

My rights of passage they lie on the street            
Names, nights and numbers            
More yet to meet            
Chase all the chances            
Blag in their face            
Dignified drug deals in civilised space            
          
Question my conduct            
You honourable drug man            
Act like it's a favour            
Thanks for doing all you can            
          
       Getting gear to me in the middle of night            
       If I have paperwork you’ll treat me alright            
       Those without money are desperate and wrong            
       Money gains respect when self-respect is all gone            
          
Self-righteous, selfish, insatiable day            
Drivelling shit while I'm wasting away          
Squander salaciously screaming ‘I am’            
Watch for the bricks being thrown from this pram            
          
       Don’t call time to me when my funds deplete            
       You don’t get to tell me my night is complete            
       You’ve no moral ground to show me the way            
       Got dollar, how bout it? of course did you say?            
          
Solemnly swearing this is the last call            
Under my rule all your soldiers will fall            
Got them running in circles through cold rainy night            
Want to keep them in battle? Keep them out of my fight.            
          
Yes I am fucking up, I know this very well            
You know what motherfucker; I see me in hell          
Down in the depths where they crackle and pop            
One infinite session where the pain doesn't stop            
          
        I could crawl from this gutter of lies, cash and dirt            
        Disgracing my loved ones I smother with hurt            
        Destroying desires for life pure and true            
        Diminishing dreams as we all break on through            
          
How many more sessions will I drag over time            
Clinging to delusions whilst buzzing off crime          
It costs more than money; the real cost is my soul          
Empathy, compassion, ideals, any goal            
          
As desperate when clucking am I now to achieve            
Strength of my convictions            
I want to believe          
that I want to stop.      
I want to believe that I want to stop.  
I want to stop.
Written by maremma
Published
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