Stoned Again

Posted: February 25, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

bud
I think I can taste the top of my head-
Which seems so useless and so funny.
Colours and music weave together criss-crossing in new harmonies.
Sounds form patterns in the air:
Four-four beats have four sides.
I am born again as an empty shell of a man but warm and comfortable:
No anxiety,
No panic,
No problems,
Sticky and Crumbly joy,
Green light of dreamless night,
Infinite compassion and blue calm waters,
Inhale, exhale through curlicues of smoke.
The world gets better with every toke.

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Comments
  1. bejamin4 says:

    A really cool line: “Sticky and Crumbly joy”. Love that.

    Like

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