Gorged on white stuff,
peanut-butter sandwich fryin’.
Higher, not lighter
when he ingested were his goals.
Swirl, swirl, swirl
up his nose when he respired
F**ked-up-brain-aimin’,
eatin’ S’mores and mo’.

Those sniffings/stickings/pillings lift him higher;
a replete bong his desire.
Aside from sweets and pies,
his yearnin’s drugs.

Shoot, shoot, shoot—
tied off his arm for mainlining.
Couldn’t be taming
his love to do drugs and to dine.
Yearning, yearning, yearning
for ’ludes, to get loopy.
Other times he’d toke and toke
as anodyne.

’cause those sniffings/stickings/pillings lift him higher—
more than treats cooked over fire
(doubled entendre just sired).
His yearnin’s drugs.

He’s getting grosser—
tasty stuff thickening his body.
Down in Memphis,
a drugs and fried-food buffet.
Got hard to breathe,
then he was leaving.
Gorged a surfeit—
toppled off the throne; there he lay.

At peak, couldn’t have been higher,
but succumbed to his desires
for junk, junk food cooked on fire.
His yearnin’s drugs;
his yearnin’s lunch.

Loved junk and junk; his yearnin’s drugs,
Loved junk and junk; his yearnin’s lunch.
Stuffed gut with junk; his yearnin’s lunch,
Stuff for down, up; his yearnin’s drugs.