The Legend of Tweaker Tim: Part II

Just when you thought the saga had come to end

Here's another yarn for my storytelling to lend

One misty morning as the dew was slowly drying

I sat in his raper van, with frustration I was crying

I wrote the limerick to prelude this tale

But many convoluted adventures I failed to detail

As that day wore on so did he on my nerves

Spending hours in my mirror admiring his lack of curves

My husband had an idea and played into his insanity

At this point there was no hiding my curses and profanity

As the Sasquatch primped my husband dutifully shaved

A perfectly framed symbol of the racially depraved

A swastika gleamed from his wolf-like rear side

I attempted to keep it together, really, I tried

But try as I might my mouth had a mind of its own

I was still seething from yet another gas money loan

I burst out loud "would it kill ya to save me a little hot water"

He acts like I'm possessed by Satan's spiteful daughter

Like I have absolutely no reason to act this way

When each day with Timmy is more work than play

Back to my story...he exited the shower with towel on waist

And scrambled about my bedroom going no where with haste

He rambled on about his wealthy and important date

On which he'd been invited to accompany his mate

He acted as though he were a thoroughbred stallion

And being asked to accompany earned him a gold medallion

A hand-me-down suit he donned with arrogant pride

Sure he'd be courting his sugar mama to be his bride

The moon had long ago set and the sun was aglow

He made his way to work for that same double-date fellow

Lo and behold his official suit he still donned

Telling a salacious tale about his imaginary blond

There was no double-date for which his services were requested

There was no cougar, no dinner, no need for dressing double-breasted

To this day we can only infer his actual whereabouts that night

Which caused him to work construction in a suit in broad daylight

Given my past experiences with his nonsensical escapades

This is typical Tweaker Tim fuckery as his lie cascades

His hustle constantly hanging in a delicate balancing act

Lends no room for error so his falsehoods must be exact

Yet each scheme he formulates ends in an utter disaster

His mental circus having monkeys on acid and no ringmaster

Spinning about physically and also in diminished mentality

He pushes my buttons and tests my semblance of normality

I guess he's okay until he's falsely convinced of your adversity

His brain just plays tricks on him, meth mind is a perversity

Some people just shouldn't do drugs...ahem....let drugs do them

Because before your eyes their life just turns to mayhem

Some people indulge in drugs and function just fine

While others don't know when to stop pushing the line

Higher and higher until sanity escapes their fragile minds

A small percentage stay lucid while the delirium affects all kinds

Heed the advice I preach to all before embarking on meth's journey

Hire yourself a good psychiatrist and an excellent defense attorney

While there is humor in these tweaker stories that I tell

Its never funny watching 98% of your friends' lives go to hell

Laugh and get a good chuckle from Timmy's hilarious misfortune

As you cultivate your own shit show of a tweaker consortium

Today its all a joke but in a mere blink it becomes a reality

Wagering with amphetamines could fuck you to the nth degree

To you Tim is a just a character in these poems I write for you

But to me he was once a friend and now he's just someone I once knew