My sole solace,
My soul's shelter,
My ready escape,
My friends.

My source of joy,
And my source of malice:
They've taught me beauty,
They've taught me belligerence.

My treasured torture,
A vexing vice,
Friends lend you might,
Friends sap your strength.

A savory sickness,
A pleasurable plague,
They give just to grab,
Those pious power-mongers.

But I'm an ardent addict,
Of the human substance,
Of the people-drug,
Of my friends.

For they're the stuff of life,
The heart at the hub of happiness,
My light and my way,
My endurance for existence.

And if I've been bombarded by their bullets,
If I'm porous as a sponge,
Then its all been worth it to absorb them,
Into my spirit, my self, my love...