Of a tar-like quick sand
Concided to become black and sticky
Calling it “organic”
Dully smirking at “awake”
As if functional is manic
Trading asperation for the perspiration
Of pot soaked sheets
Sleeping away
What once was creative
Potenitally contemplative
For a mumbling shrug
Dont you see the trajectory
Is disengaging from your family
For the sake of the “one you love”?
The enabling kind of love
Feeds his addiction
Dictating your new reality
From this mundane fiction
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