Through What Amounts
Behind this door
Lies a sleepy beast
Eyes forlorn with training
Holding a demon view:
Patients are criminals
If their sickness is dependence.
They chose to poison
Their souls failed
To overcome heredity
Debt on the streets
Advertising racism and
Presidents
Charged with asterixis, convicted
Of euphoria;
Sentenced to lung cancer and branded with
Kaposi’s sarcoma
Knock on this door
Or let it bleed, but sure
Enough I am
Told that my mind will go
Through what amounts
To waking the beast.