A Broem
Stalking hip streets in a new pair of Docses
Pasty Don Juan in jade leather Martens
Boy-curls gel-molded into new hair-a-doxes
("But I would never wear Doc Martens!" you feebly protest.)
Bless the Libertine's nose-bleeds with divine ben-addiction!
And his late nights with Theory, and his powdered Utopia
Communist of Leisure! Oh, entwined contradiction!
Who flees his own absurdity in pronounced Zeno-phobia. :B heheh
("Plenty of Communists do drugs!" you whine with dismay.)
I wrote this Broem to Redeem you, not Enthrall you or Thrill you
If you don't stop doing Cocaine, it is going to Kill you.