Rockstar

[addy]

Welcome to the forum universalchild

Okay, general comments. I like that there's a core to this, and you seem very clear on what you're trying to express here. However, to me it reads like you're forcing rhymes in lots of places, and the meter doesn't quite hold up consistently (read it out to yourself and you'll hear it). I'll point out an example below so you'll get the idea, but I don't want to overwhelm you. I'll also make a few comments on the content, just something to think about.

Hope to see more from you

Weeks of chemical abuse leave his dull mind stale,
reflection reveals dark eyes sunken, skin turned pale, Since the POV is already observing this man directly throughout the poem, perhaps it is not necessary to describe him through his reflection. Just my take though, and a tiny nit
the kind of face both child-like and yet so very old,
clothes are torn and dirty, flesh is wet and cold. why is he particularly wet? Was it raining?

Shaking, clutching his smoke, his cancerous crutch,
harmless in his sadness and so gentle in his touch,
but nobody can see him for he is the urban ghost,
blinded by the acrid fumes to which he is engrossed.

Homeless thus forever lost, his poverty sincere,
fear drives him to seek solace, his new motive is clear, The cadence of "his new motive..." is different
but crack inside his pipe becomes the cracks inside his mind,
and it cracks in the foundations of the life he left behind. It might not be to everyone's taste because of its directness, but I rather like this line

Life a nightmare endless, but he begins to form a dream,
swirling dust, cardinal paint, some strange metallic gleam,
these hidden dirty memories of what was once his home,
remind him why he must be free and ever must he roam. Not sure if the inconsistent old english syntax works for you, as they seem randomly inserted and thus forced: "life a nightmare endless...", "... ever he must roam". Just my take though

Perhaps he once was clever, for his words are full of jargon,
talks in hopes of pennies, which with crystals he will bargain,
then huddles in amongst the filth and wraps himself in lies,
surrounded by a cloud of smoke in which his spirit flies. This line makes me rethink your poem. Can his spirit really fly if his mind is dull and stale?You appear to be making this point, but this is (I think) the only line in the poem where you inserted any glimmer of hope and ascendancy in his situation