No Twelve-Step

No Twelve-Step

Her memory was my gateway 
taking me deeper with the needle.
It's a futile desperation
and robs me

dimes and dollars

minutes, hours

days and years.

There never is any margin
kicking at these memories.
They only bring more heartache
than there are leaves in all the trees.

If feeling sorry for yourself
could draw a man his pay
I would buy myself a ticket
to anywhere outta here.

But I'll fire her into a mainline
and get that familiar burn.
There's no cure for this self-inflicted misery.
No twelve-step to freedom.