Read Part I First:
http://toylit.blogspot.com/2010/03/fanfare-for-common-crook-part-one.html
A puff of weed destroys the pain
Of traumas pent within the brain.
A snort of coke for richer folk
Will lace a harshness in their jokes.
With both, a drug is just the means
By which they glimpse at better scenes.
We own whatever we obtain.
Since loss is pain, we must sustain
Our gains—though loss is life's great crux,
We stave its rush with lots of bucks.
We yearn and so we die in bits
And bored to death between the scares
We drink whatever gives us fits:
As life denies us, takes our wares
In increments too small to note—
A tiny death by desk: a rote
And wearing task of paper null.
This prison has no outer hull:
Its bars are codicils of ink,
And lawyers form its monied links.
And when another fucker's crashed
And tossed in bins as if he's trashed
He'll seek that perfect cup of joe
He has an image he must show
The world: that he loves only pleasure—
Or fears life's pain: they've equal measure.
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