Due to how much I see poppers as a sign of a continuing sexually social epidemic within the gay community despite our present ongoing social acceptance, I have made it no secret of my disdain for them. To the point that I have made the vow to myself to never date a guy who uses them. And I believe this poem clearly explains why.
This sentiment is further explained in my poem, "Poppered Preacher". It's a poem about a minister-in-training who I was recently involved with. If you read my Tumblr blog post on Calling Out Ass Holes that was an open letter to the church he attends, then you have the foundation for that poem already in your minds. So I hope you will let yourself be enlightened by that poem as well.
Now, if you feel either of these poems made the gay community looked bad to the mostly heterosexual audience it was presented to, since I made it clear that I myself don't use them, that's not my fault. That is an issue that needs to be taken up with the user(s) of poppers that you are the most familiar with. So this problem will stop, thereby making me no longer need to address it. And if you're one of those users, then your ill-will towards these poems is your calling to STOP.