Mistaken for an Opium Addict

a slug
crawling along the ruler of life
trying to measure his progress
and when looking back,
only acknowledges
his displacement
a slug
looking forth
along the ruler of life
and in front
is trail
upon trail
of salt
little crystals put down
plotting his little slug demise
"fuck me!"
our mucus covered friend cries
but alas
he cannot go back
but trek forth into fates salty grips
with each step
he forces his insides out
to fend off the dehydration
of his soul
"fuck!"
he cries again
but once coming this far
he cannot go back
or forth
he sits
and allows his insides
to leak into the air
and evaporate
"at least i slugged a good slug"
yes
dear slug
and no one is going to come pick you up
or save you from your choices
so now
my dear slug
you're fucked