Time flies…

 

Puffing away on a crystal orb,

Searching for the elusive high…

Feet that won’t leave the ground,

Accepting frustration, no sting in sight

I turn away from the bowl….

 

 

Mary-Jane watches my desperate dance,

She smiles, and takes my hand.

We twirl together, in time to the music playing in my head,

tapping our toes to the tune.

Watching the hours wave, on their way pass…

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2 thoughts on “Time flies…

  1. Cracked Catholic

    The flame caresses the glass stem and is withdrawn,
    But to touch it lightly again,
    Teasing the vessel with heat as the white rock begins to sizzle,
    Wisps of smoke entering her as she draws the pipe to her lips,
    Breathing in slowly, evenly, deep past deep,
    No longer seeing or hearing as in her the white cloud gains strength,
    The night’s first hit a white wafer orgasm between her eyes,
    A blessed communion offering numbed absolution
    To her extravagantly stilled heart.

    And soon it will be gone, and she will crave after it at all costs,
    Paying with the pain of her loved ones and her own indignity,
    Struck low only to be struck again, for the next hit isn’t quite there,
    It’s but a tortured approximation, a rush ridden with guilt
    Spurring her, as she comes down to degradation,
    To dwell blindly in the dark night without end,
    Fleeing her haunted self as she chases the ghost.

    And suddenly, in utter exhaustion,
    She will come to herself and weep without control.
    She will beg forgiveness – and always to her hands extend –
    But she cannot forgive disappointment, failure and hard daily choice:
    White smoke beckons, her true confessor.

    She was told that within her an electrode was placed,
    And as smoke enters her, she will be coursed with shock,
    Violent spasms but the surge’s visible effect.
    Still she faithfully flies to despair, and for three days and nights,
    The incision still fresh upon her shaven head,
    Sucks in white emptiness,
    Receiving the wrath of her vigilant angel,
    The pain unbearable, she says, but no more so
    Than life.

    I now know she must find her own way
    To the crossroads.

    Like

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