...and so, I get high. With a lighter in one hand and my escape in the other, I sit on one thought the rest of the night. I gaze at the keyboard while I listen to my thoughts bounce off the walls of this silent, somber room. I drink, in detail, all the memories recently created. Through modern day device, you dispatch your lingering voice. I trace the footnotes back to my own insanity. Invisible tears collect, and panic pursues the details of the day. Dreams elusive, there is no rest for the damned. Nothing is wrong, if that's what I choose. Sink this shrouded bottle deep inside myself. Tomorrow approaches, as if nothing happened. |
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Comments
correct me if i'm wrong...
This piece is melancholy, but that doesn't have much to do with the marijuana itself. However, I do believe people are more contemplative, in a sense, when under the influence.
I love your observation of this piece. Thank you for sharing that with me.
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"Be who you are and say what you think, because those who mind dont matter, and those who matter dont mind" -Dr. Suess
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