BAD HABITS

We never quite kick habits,
No matter how big or small
Or whether they are legal or not.
Merely keep them at bay,
Stalling for time,
Trying to figure out how to stop just for a while.
Moments of brief respite
From doing the same old things
That are bringing grief to ourselves 
And to those around us.
It's as if we were hard-wired
To strive towards self-destruction
In an otherwise seemingly orderly state of affairs.
Devoid of compassion,
We keep on passing homeless people by,
Without acknowledging their presence,
All the while sucking on another filthy cigarette
And denying that we too are junkies
Just like those whom we are so often in the habit 
Of seeing ourselves as being above.
If only we'd pause our busy lives for a second
So we could consider the hobo's story
And how it could have been any one of us
Who ended up in the same situation,
Given the the wrong turn of events in our safe, comfortable lives.
It could have been the result of addiction
In all the myriad forms it takes
Or perhaps a run of bad health,
Including of the mental variety.
But we're too hooked to our own bad habit
Of condemning the condemned,
To ever think it possible
That we too could have no safe place to lay our heads,
For after all, despite our bad habits,
We have always lived in the lap of relative luxury,
Never to have quite fallen from the wayside.
And habits, they sure do die hard, 
But at least we're not junkies!
No we won't ever die, 
Slouched in the corner of a public toilet
With a needle in our arms.
That is unthinkable!
We are better than that
And yes, habits do die hard,
Like thinking ourselves above all the undesirables,
Despite being consumed by the grip of legal habits,
Such as killing ourselves with fire water and cancer sticks.
It's about time we got out of the habit of thinking our shit don't stink.
Saints ain't so perfect after all.
At the end of the day,
We are all junkies in one way or another. 
Indeed, we all have our vices.

UNHOLY ALLIANCE

No limits whatsoever, pay a visit to the desert inside my desolate mind
In the closet, many skeletons, time to stop it: wasting away the passing time
Hip pocket full of five cent coins, so watch it when you play with your toys
Mini rocket explodes full of joy, can’t top it, euphoria strong like an alloy
But it’s an illusion, a jilted vision of a man committing theft and treason
In collusion with an unnamed person running out of time and reasons
The pollution inside the forest cabin, confronting the change of seasons
A conclusion derived from facin’ the truth of my hardcore, relentless fiendin’
Unrepentant repetition of an unholy alliance, a junkie’s defiant vision
The runner with holes in his shoes, beholden to the hunger I’ve been feedin’

Ice caps melting on the precipice, a convoluted map laying out all the evidence
A dalliance that is far too dangerous, the intense, silent loss of common sense
Climbing like a juvenile over a fence, run a mile, all the while feeling tense
Not enough coinage to pay the rent, despite free passage and the best of intent
Too late to change tack and repent, a fate held back by the hands of consequence
Walk the beaten track with my back bent, the pressure will simply not relent
Wondering where all my friends went, after the crash resulted in a huge dent
No shoulders upon which for me to vent, active ingredient missing just like hemp
So I’m all alone alone pitching my tent, though I’ve grown, I'm still filled with resent
For the unreciprocated ears I’ve lent, plagued with uncertainty like an office temp

Soldier on towards the path of least resistance, caught in idle circumstance
Major hitch in the march towards providence, as I ever so slowly advance
Fuck the rich, getting richer, as I remain stagnant with pictures fading fast
Do yourself a fucking favour, stop searching for a saviour, nothing ever lasts
Except all the things that perpetuate your irate fling with destruction of late
A fate so cruel that eventuates when you continue to drown out your fear and hate
Get yourself into quite a state, the river of denial is as strong as the day is long 
A defense mechanism at any rate, dirty water revival singing a tainted song
And though there is something missing between the schism, hope was there all along
In the ocean, floating outside the constraints of life's prison, you can right the wrongs

ONE HUNDRED PER CENT BIOAVAILABILITY

Season of spectacles, plenty of junk food upon the table, corporations spreading tentacles
Desire in the crucible, to keep us hungry and horny, just like our domesticated animals
The appetite is insatiable, like the damage that's capable from the fiending of a cannibal
For the flesh of another human, but it's time for us to get even, reclaim a slice of heaven
For we've had enough of their theiving, whose bellies we been feeding?
The fault line is bleeding, where are you going? All that fear and loathing is self-defeating
And the years spun into nothing are coming back to haunt the empty nights of the time waster
Death is near as we search for something but keep running side to side like cross-faders
On a turntable, Technics 1200, a smorgasbord of lies that we are fed, leaving us for dead
We believe in fables, the details so sordid, leaving us empty, fucked in the head

To our techno devices we are wed, without them we can't think of anything else to do instead
Our inability to tolerate going incognito makes us kick up a fuss and fills us with dread
So we log on to Facebook, take a long hard look at all the selfies our friends be posting
Yes we are all hooked, like a meth junkie pastry cook who does a lot of crack pipe smoking
While rejecting the evil needle, there will be no injecting into his drain pipe veins
For toking can be turned into a game of who is best at making it rain inside their brain
Bunters are all going under, riddled with disease: not quite AIDS but most likely Hep C
But mainlining is all about impeccable rhyming and efficiency, one hundred percent bioavailability
If waste was the enemy, then whacking saves on the cost, nothing is lost when administered intravenously
As least the amphetamines are not going up in smoke as you toke, this digression is beyond a joke

This rhyme was meant to be political then the author turned fanatical about defending the superiority
Of one method of administering chemicals over another, a fashionable departure from techno bashing authority
Had to forego trashing technophiles in order to highlight the glass pipe's inferiority
But the point still remains at the end of the day that we are all addicted to technology
Bought and sold on the free market by computer yuppies, slaves to the lastest fads, iPads and gadgets
But aren't you glad that Google knows everything about you, the greatest view from the blade of a hatchet
Hacking into us like sandpaper cuts through rust, turning our privacy into a layer of dust
To consume the fumes coming from the server's mainframe is a must, in the techno android brain we trust
Toxic emissions metamorphasising by magic into Facebook posts about the latest highlights and news
Nuclear fission emphasising the tragic duck faces, shallow forces are plenty, there's simply no excuse