We’re all sitting here confined to this large place.
Everything moving in slow motion. Our minds control time and space.
Keeping this smoke in until we can no longer hold it.
Cough enough times so we know that it’s potent.
As the smoke leaves my mouth, my thoughts merge with it.
Dispersing amongst the others, spreading my message. My cloudy prophet.
But the room is fairly clear. I can see the calendar with the Audi.
Let us solve that little problem and make the weather forecast cloudy.
We are nowhere near close to each other. The distance is distinct.
Almost forgot it was my turn to smoke. Thank god for our cerebral link.
Inhaled the smoke into my lungs to keep my mental turbines moving.
Jane is my muse. She gives me access to the answers I’ve been yearning.
Like there are nine people here. Meaning nine blunts in rotation.
Times three pulls per blunt. That’s twenty-seven pulls per person.
Now multiply that by five left-handed rotations.
And that equals every person in here touching a space station.
My homie stuck off OG Kush sitting to the North of me.
I passed the Sour to my west coast shorty so she could admire the potency.
Purple Kush smoke floating heavy on the right.
While this BC bud in my hand will have me feeling alright.
Leaning back in the recliner and kicking up my feet.
Gladly enjoying the flavor of this grape swisher sweet.
Our eyes are glowing red and the room has gotten foggier.
The clouds trying to escape the room fearful of us monsters.
We’re all down to our last remaining blunts and final two rotations.
Everybody takes fewer pulls to prolong the leafy erosion.
Mouths are getting dry and stomachs feeling the hunger.
Boy could we go for some breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Let’s start opening up these windows and watch our skies become clear.
Bodies come alive as our lungs fill with fresh air.
We’ve run out of the herb and it put a damper on our hearts.
Someone call Eden’s messenger so we can continue these happy, hazy thoughts.
Read Fear by C. Davis