the right to bear arms?

if happiness is a warm gun then ecstasy is a cold one.  Lately you slam 40 down in honor of the party scene.  It's a plug-and-chug and every one of you is passed out in the backyard like a thug.  You don't belong there and we both know it; it's a form of hiding best delivered by the lonely and even though I am I keep it to a minimum.  Cocking the gun used to be fun and now it's a form of torture... firing one off is all that I know of you and if I saw you on the street I would never even know it; you're a faceless creature and every feature I had memorized was only by hands in the dark.  I never learned braille but I sure learned your body and finger tips never forget.  It might be easy to walk right by you on the street when the sun is shining down but when the lights go out and I'm feeling my way it's the hardest part of my day to get through.  I burnt my finger tips off in memory of you and my nervous system shut down.  It is the best memory I have of you.