This feeling is unreal.
It’s an addiction,
A fixation.
There’s nothing else like it.
You can’t understand this need.
It’s an obsession.
It consumes her,
Takes over her life.
She lives for those moments,
Sitting in the basement,
Hiding in the woods,
Waiting at a bus stop.
It’s all she has,
To keep her sane,
To keep her happy,
Even if it’s not real.
The earthy smell,
The feel of the cool glass in her hand,
Are familiar,
Comforting.
There’s nothing else like it.
She secures her sacred treasure,
Presses it into the round, colourful bowl.
The flick of the flint,
The small explosion of light,
Make her heart race.
She brings the flame close to her face,
Almost near enough to singe her eyebrows.
Her lips wrap around the smooth end of salvation.
She inhales deeply,
Over and over,
Letting the toxicity fill her lungs,
And rush through her veins.
It sets her skin on fire,
Makes every sensation almost orgasmic.
Her eyes grow blood-shot,
As images grow blurry.
She watches as the walls pulsate.
She is in love with life.
She wants to stay like this forever.
But the high soon begins to fade.
She grows drowsy,
And her eyelids droop.
Her body grows limp,
As she falls deeper and deeper,
Into a dreamless sleep.
She has found peace,
For now.
But she will wake again,
Into a world from which she can never escape,
Cannot endure,
Without that green gram from god

Kimmie E.