Mary Jane

I ride high on the white crest of a smoke wave
Sucking in the thick and enlightening fog
Through a straw of paper and grass.

The taste is sweet and tangy
And meant to be eaten in the style of
Devil’s food cake, Or a
Delectable sliver of baklava.
While the aroma prickles at the nose
Like freshly mown grass,
Or a newly blossomed lilac.

Sailing on the wind
Without a single acquaintance in sight,
I make friends with
The red-billed seagull
Flying from the coast,
And the stars guiding my way.

An opportunity for the liberation of sensations!
I’ve never known such freedom.

Dark, swirling clouds of madness
Approach from the north-west.
And when above, winds grasp and toss my flesh
Like a limp fish on a ship’s deck.

Every drop of rain pelts against my skin,
While 30 foot smoke waves compete
To topple my formidable little vessel.

I crawl into a corner,
Searching furiously for my body,
When by chance a sudden glimmer of starlight
Reflects its image straight into my eyes.
I see it rocking, crying, and singing –
The voice’s facial frame – flaring nostrils and
Erupting saliva – looks like it could
Propel sound for miles.
But I hear nothing.

Suddenly, I pear down at my legs
To find them resting comfortably in my favorite chair,
While my hands maneuver spiced
Chocolate towards my tongue;
However, despite appearances, the same reality
Consumes my inner frenzy
As smoke continues to fill scarred lungs.

Feed me more! I cry.
Take me back!
I have found the perfect remedy.
Throw me into the sea,
Into the waves of fog
And leave me there.

With determination, I start to pray
As I smoke,
Giving new life to the storm.
For it lives by my own
Creation.

I stop for a moment, because
Something’s missing, Something’s
Not right.

No smoke! That’s the problem.
Not even a drop fills my cells.
But how is this possible, since the effects align
Perfectly with past storms?
What trigger could explain?
Perhaps smoke can lay dormant, awaiting
The opportune moment.

No matter the reason, the
Storm rages on without smoke.
My own frankenstein vision
Feeding off dreams
That later drown in terror,
And consume my waking world
Where only sleep provides salvation.

My hollow scream pierces the storm’s thunder.
Only for my body to stand up
And throw itself in.

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