Addict. [Rewrite]

[Inspired by Hemihead's writing style.- So thank you.]  
  
Addict.  
  
  
Stealing gin from the liquor cabinet underneath the piles of cut-out newspaper adverts.   
I worried for my war surviving grandparents, they're not going to stand for this shit.   
  
Carter, James and I are smoking spliffs and passing vanilla milkshakes with additional gin.   
Bee and Amelia ingesting marshmallows into broken veins of vain hearts.   
  
The carnivores are turning vegetarian on my pesto pasta,  
and the one vegan tried feasting like a carnivore when I cooked bacon for midnight. We won't mention it when she's sobered up.   
  
Carter talks about love like he spent it all on arrogance, taking advantage of the vulnerable   
in a forward backward dance.   
  
This is their stance in   
our society, or so they say,   
James with his sincere blue eyes and honest opinions
and Carter with his chiselled features and chiselled words.   
  
Am I witty for being serious   
in the midst of riddles?   
I talk to Amelia as if she isn't fat and Bee as if she isn't obsessed with Carter, and a slut.   
  
Am I worthy of pale skin   
embraced in skipping rope   
with styles and strokes like S and M when James and I tried it?   
  
The elderly are raving, well, at the village hall, so the house is all my own.   
The babes at work are discussing politics, they grow up so fast. 
Back here, when my stoned tales have ended, we all watch from a Television set   
into your homes of paranoia-  
  
Or maybe, we just think Paris Hilton wants to be our BFF. It seems much more appealing stoned.   
Say goodbye to beauty as you become succumb to the beautiful - Carter   
and his tabloid lies.   
  
"Good night." James and I crash in my grandparents room,   
Amelia snores on the sofa while Bee cheats, for the third time, on her University boyfriend.   
The statues of history are snoozing from the mantelpiece   
  
It's nothing but misery, doom, gloom and tragedy   
in this laugh-induced fight.   
  
I'll wake up tomorrow to everyone gone and the house  
like a beer bottle sea, smashed collectable swans my Nan loves   
and the flooring sticky on my bare feet with liquid.   
Thanks guys, where's the politics and charm in this?