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!