UP IN SMOKE

Crackheads from Saskatchewan Jen's Bay Jans Bay where all the cooks live and nobody likes to play treachery in the fields each and every day I have to escape this place. Show me the way when family is supposed to watch your back. But really they're stealing nickels from your pocket and smoking crack not even for a day. Do the crack pipes sit at Bay? The boulders going up like bales of burning hay? Smoking crack like a religion rolling hoots like a ribbon debts stacking up like a bunch of wooden cribbing watching everybody slip cuz they sit and bite my lip. My change jar now down to a nickel watching everybody trip Sterling's on the roof yelling at a crow tiara's in the garden watching ghost potatoes grow hallucination. Magnification psychotic breaks to come for a sober man like me. Split personalities ain't fun I watched them SWAT at flies and talk to their french fries. Their brains are ground beef and like a leaf their children flutter I hear their cries. That's the reason I stay to prolong their life a day but I need to escape this place. Will they fare? I hope I pray Eddie, you look like Casper but not the friendly ghost the least of intelligence. The brain is crisp as toast. This is the man that brings upon the drama f**** up their lives the most as he's spinning up a boulder in the brand new microwave. I sit and clean up all his messes like a hired slave. I'll be back in 10. Eddie says then 3 days go by. All I do is stare at him and ask why he talks to the sky knowing that there is no answer as he's on a large crack high. I wipe my tear and make my way as I wave to the kids. I cry not knowing where they'll be if they'll live or if they'll die. I stuck it out. I did my time. I open my wings. It's time to fly. I bid farewell and saying goodbye. There's blood on hands but not on mine. I hope those children will be fine. Yay! Now!