Nicotine Nevermind

If I could do what I wanted,

I'd become a complex chemist.

I'd organize the vials of

Hormones in my head.

I'd find a leaking beaker of chemicals

Of precious dopamine.

Sleep the day away after fixing 

What was left inside my brain.

Slap a bandaid on the cracks

Of serotonin and shame

And find a different way to ask

If there's been any updates?

My nerves would be inhabiting

The shaking tin foil muscle mass,

A tiny orchestra of xylophonic

Notes and complaints. 

The part that was Me would sit and listen

And wonder at the symphony 

Of groaning

As the body parts start to fall away. 

And if there's enough left,

After you've had your fill,

Then I'll walk up timidly 

and ask if there was any left for me?

Receptors firing panic

And the heart is jumping faster

As my bones fall apart inside

Like the walls made of plaster

Inside my two heads' apartment

Complete with kitchen and a stove

Where the meters reading critical

As the chum bloodies the cove 

An island of thoughts

Of where everyone's been 

Where I'm alone, afraid

With uncommitted sin

Shouldn't someone have noticed

As the years pass by?

Nobody notices

When inside you've died. 

And if there's none left,

After they've had their fill,

Then why, Oh God why, can't I?