There once was a boy named Gimmesome Roy. He was nothing like me or you. / 'Cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do. / As a kid, he sat in the cellar, sniffing airplane glue... /

The God of Wine is in my bed. I give him solace; he gives me dread. We leave silhouettes of acrid sweat: Fallen snow angels; a holy mess...

A Shakespearean sonnet for all of the drug dealers through all of the years. Sorry for blowing you up, homeboys.