Eight Ball Poem by Aram Stefanian

I am really behind the eight ball again
Dreaming to find a good job, a gravy train
Cannot sit tight, something's got to give
In living from day to day I find no relief

While friends are trying to play hell with me
All my wishes are buried at a turbulent sea
I'm not sure if you are in my little black book
If not, then I gotta do it on my own hook

Grody to the max, grungy and dry-as-dust
That's how you're looking now, getting nowhere fast
Looking for the same pusher to ask him for eight
I know it's hard to kick the habit, but never too late

If you're hooked on rock candy,
I won't sit still for that
I got the nod for a house dealer,
But on you I'm gonna rat