Outside the British Museum
Of course I cannot speak. I’m crammed with drugs
And all the shit that comes with them. I’ve turned
Intelligence to stupid drawl. The dugs
Of chemical addiction leave my burned
Synapses tottering. They’re like a man
So drunk he stumbles round Great Russell Street,
Stupidity on legs, who barely can
Avoid death where culture has its seat.
So, never mind Rosetta Stone or frieze
Of Lapiths and of beasts half men, half horse;
I’m not even half a man when drugs seize
My brain—unfit for human intercourse.
Just let me dribble on, a dumb ass, dense,
Who’s let a hit and booze destroy my sense.