On Rollies
I dream of smoking.
Of what it’s like to hold
Slow-burn leaves to my face
And suck and cough and somehow
Inhale nature back into my body,
Breathe in the smell of forest fires
Create my own little eco-system
And play God, Mother Nature,
And burn it all down,
Suck this destruction into myself
Get the dry feel of badness, of immolation in my lungs
And be perversely pleased that it’s killing me,
That I burn and breathe and destroy myself
Just how I want to, and it feels good.
I dream of smoking and it feels good.
Page(s) 35
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