Five short lines, each one a list of things people do when they are hurting: turning the music up, cutting deeper, skipping meals, smoking or drinking more. The poem is about self-destructive habits, and it says plainly what they have in common. None of them is really about the music, the food, or the cigarette. Each is "just another way to drown out the pain."
The speaker seems to be watching someone closely, maybe a friend, maybe their own past self, since the poem speaks directly to "you." The repeated "Every time" gives the lines a heavy, relentless rhythm, as if this cycle has happened over and over. The word "another" keeps returning too, which suggests escalation: one habit leads to the next, and nothing ever quite works.
The mood is bleak and tired, but also quietly sympathetic. The speaker doesn't scold. They just name what's going on underneath, which may be the first step toward someone hearing it.