They give new meaning to reefer madness,
my roommates who smoke—incessantly joke
with a grating, artificial gladness;
their unceasing chuckles tempt me to choke
them during twilight hours in the name
of what I regard as most holy: SLEEP.
I have to convince myself not to maim
them, since if they don't shut up soon, I'll weep.
Every night without fail: high-speed babbling.
Tonight, they giggled over boobs and lubes
like barely post-pubescent boys dabbling
in lewdness. Their reason's gone down the tubes.
Ugh! Why can't they go do drugs in the woods
like all the others who imbibe such goods!