that beast nostalgia in poetry

nostalgia is the methadone
to the opiate of really being alive
the clinic doors have been shuttered
there’s only one way left to thrive
pull together all your embers
of the flame-outs of the past
sacrifice them for one fire
that makes the future last
nostalgia is a methadone
consoling urges in a room alone
spike your veins with life instead
no vanity
full speed ahead