Sobriety is a mother of a drug,
sitting alone and hoping there’ll soon be someone to hug. 
A kiss would be nice,
but I’ll piss on some ice for that frost-brewed taste in a mug. 

Necessity is the mother of intervention,
quickly brought to another’s attention
and laid at my feet,
while forced to sit in detention. 
They rarely allow me to eat,
but it’s not something they care to mention. 

I’ve made friends in here
who’ve offered to queer,
but I found a nurse who has a nice purse she lets me get near.  

— Mat Freeman  (1999)