the drink
the joint
the hit
what once was habit
now becomes way of life and strife
skin sagging on bones
that are bent and alone
even when company comes
honey
i have been there
i whisper in your ear
hoping to hit on that part
of the brain
that pain
resides
so you know
i can show you
another way
scrape away the burnt stuff
so we can eat together
all the bread and wine
i can find in this world
we will be drunk on friendship
and full of love
(or full of something)
lexxie babe
dont you hate the way
you feel afterwards
lets shake it off and run
grab my hand
i will grab your heart
and we can start
something new and untouched
by anyone but us
the drink
the joint
the hit
that was once a habit
led us here
to the possibility of a life
together
Adding your comment:
Isn't it crazy how so many people think that "real language" isn't the "stuff" of poetry ... and they all think giving an opinion on your word usage or the things they don't like about it is actual literary criticism. 
