Poem: The Drugs

She has feelings for me:
they are stunted, black, shrivelled, ill-born mutations.
Sunless, forced to grow on sweat and rare vaginal moisture.
These "feelings" for me, this "love", if you will,
is totally overshadowed by the
Titans of Need.

My access to narcotics redefines me
as a Person of Power, to her,
a desirable person,
for the sole reason of my Accessss.
To the drugs she likes ("Needs").

Her time with me
and her relation to me must,
by default,
be defined by these facts.
Sorry for me,
and probably for her too,
But it is what it is.
I cannot blame her,
nor myself,
nor the drugs.
"Society," is the closest I come
to blame.

But I love her.
And she loves what I have.

I don't think she loves me.

I may never know.