The contamination of fate is in their life,
weeping willows don’t cry anymore
for the lost boys of time.
Dreams never fare well in false pervasiveness,
their occupation is prolonged in helpless delight.
There will be no peace today for that cocaine daddy
seeking his next fix
his next breath may be his last,
but what does he care
he is embedded in his own selfish misery and addiction.
Time stands still for the virtuous fiend
transfixed in his profit of bereavement.
This fate awaits my brothers and sisters
in the killing fields of addicted hearts,
and their only escape
is in the fantasy of deaths embrace.