Cigarettes and Joints (Fictional Piece)

Just to not create impressions (I have never smoked a cigarette or joint my whole life and I have never heard voices in my head like schizophrenics do)


I was a spring chicken of 16
A boy with starry pipedreams
A feather in the wind
To nature’s forces
And to fate’s convoluted labyrinths

I took one cigarette at a time
Burning the stacked and rolled nicotine slowly
Admiring the cigarette like Cuban cigars
In front of my gleaming eyes
As I surrendered to Godfather-like memories
Taking the cigarette between my fore and third finger
And slowly planting a dose
Of sheer narcotic bliss

I could not hold on to cigarettes for too long
As I fell from the ledge of need
To roll and slip a joint in my mouth
Where a small jewel box that belonged to my sister
Stood as the hiding place for my grass
I smoked until stardust wrapped me
And levitated me, when my senses
Were afloat in dreamy hallucinations
As the weed of mental clockwork
Sent her roots to all corners
Crumbling my youthful mind
Down a black hole of no respite

I hear voices that flow and ebb
Like the Marie Celeste on my cranial fluid
In a battleground of Jesus and Narcissus
Inner beauty and outer in a strange fusion
Both the ether of my soul and the melanin stitch
Where I stand as bipolar as my idols
And now I will stand looking at my reflection
On a meniscus of Rum and coke
Remembering my boyhood memories
Inhaling a puff of stardust smoke

Sometimes we make our destinies
Knowing we are bound to imperfection
Like discolored lips to a burning joint
And that flawed soul lives as royalty within me
I’m after all a madman with a soft spot for poetry
Who will never be subordinated
By the conformists or by the tushie-kissers
One who will break open conventions
To smoke a blunt of cannabis
As I wait on my armchair
Seeking my parole from a jail-term called life
And her rhythm and blues
Stoned and burnt by my own addiction
To smoke the narcotic of happiness
One joint at a time


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