Swisher sweets
Russian creams
And them damn game greens
Of course I smoke trees
Sweet
Sticky
Purple
Orange
And green
Taking me to places I've never seen
The skies, space, and the highest of highs
Fire to plant
Plant to lung
Lip to tip and inhale
Fuck a filter I need a filler
Fuel
Full of key limes and exotics wrapped tighter than pussy and presents
Held as a delicacy and delicately above time
and thought
and jobs
and the idea of addiction
Black hoodies on corners turn dime bags to nickles to light in studio apartments to life in cell blocks by life's in black robes who hold silk next to stoves
And we take strolls
To feel
Or to not
Or both
With red foil papers and cones
Back roads and backwoods rolled to perfection
No holes
Air flow
And the elevation coughs bring
No offspring
Just black lips on big ships secreting ghosts and goblins for 30 min trips and the ability to slip
And sleep
And keep dreams
*poem inspired from the song above 😘
YOU ARE READING
Love and All It's Done to Me
PoesíaAccess to me You don't like me, you like having access to me The possession your tongue has over me, the ability to string my syllables together, whisper my name in the wind, and as it falls unto my ear I walk to you run to you hop, skip and jump...
