Some trade their souls for Cocaine,
Yet others prefer Opium to breath.
I crave for a pretty odd narc;
My senses hunger for a whiff of Death.
Walking down the alleys of delirium,
Soothing my fevered psyche,
My nostrils twitch, aching to grab
The essence of Death or something alike.
Death is my only panacea,
Its atoms I yearn to inhale.
Death has become so much a part of me,
It rushes in my veins like a gale...