What a Pot!

What a Pot!

Inside this body that I have added to for about 50 years
And that I poisoned on occasion to avoid distasteful thoughts
I sense all too well the durability that has been bred into it
By millennia of lusty, hard-assed ancestors
And I know that my gambit to live in a state
Of chemically modified ease, if not constant bliss
Until one tricky day I fail to wake up from blissful sleep
Has come to a close in a centrally-controlled civilization
Wherein each day the effort to avoid being incarcerated
Resultant to contravening the Thought Police
Becomes one degree more intense.