The Doctor

[Amanita Mary]

The Doctor


Had hopes of dope today
Slaved
With tool and hand
To get something accomplished
For it seems to be a rarity
And only did I do this
With intent
* of course *
To reward myself
Indeed I searched
Tirelessly rummaged
Through phone books
Burned brain cells
While running circles
Around my circuits:
From hours
Upon hours
Of that fucking search
Those days we all know
The days that
We laugh about
When we’re high
And it feels
Like it’ll never be
One of those endless
“Searching days”
again.
The days that we
**so easily**
Flush away with laughter
And hazy eyes
Because the score
Always heals
---The score---
Is our fraudulent doctor
The wound is
Mended
With a shitty
Band-aid
A Hill-Country Fair band-aid
And it soon will rub off
Leave goo, a wound
Another problem to solve
mess to clean up
Number to call
Plan to concoct
Method for getting
---Anything---
I always need
Another fucking band-aid