Give A Nickel, Get A Nickel-Back Poem by Axley Jade Blaze

The day I asked for one line of it,
Never wanted to make a 'nick and dime' of it
Every day, another bag
Every line, another stage
As I penned this nightmare
Fenced in another a suitcase filled with rage
On a battered, beaten, orphan-lonely page

Snorted, consumed
The word secretion, the fumes
The line; I walked it,
Then I crossed it
Yes, I snorted it
The former mission, life, I tossed it
My soul, I gave or misplaced or lost it

And I aborted it
These lines, I'm hoarding them
Deadly phase
Fully dazed
I come forward in
A smokey haze
And lost in several ways.

Junkie-Star fame
It became the game
It became what I paid
It became of what I was made
For the price to nick and dime it
All that's left to say
I face the raid

And I can't toss the sack
Can't change it or turn the clock back
But, I wonder, if I decided to refuse a line of it—
Could I change the timing of it?
Would anything alter from it?
Or the same result, nearly dying from it?

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