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Raspberry Swirls of Smoke
by Michelle Ackmann
copyright 05-15-2005


Age Rating: 18 to 127

 
The nag is in its burner
allowing its sweet line of smoke
filter through the air in its intoxicating manner.

The couch, so fluffy and inviting, beckons me
with raspberry swirls of uncanny decadence.

The bowl packed, the beer cracked, the Parliament smoldering in the ashtray.

The likeness of Zeppelin, Floyd, and The Dead
play effortlessly in the CD changer
and you spark the bowl with its beautiful scent and enticing shade of green.

In the past, this was my way out of things,
my only light in my dark and dismal life.
The pills found their way into my hand,
swallowed by my drink, and made me so happy
and in love with everyone.

The music ran through my body like blood and didn't stop until the next day of uninterrupted sleep.

Sleep, something that doesn't come easy,
but is welcomed after a night of raspberry swirls,
blueberries, white widow, and moon flower.

My cashed eyes see things through a backwards magnifying glass and are red like fresh blood.

The nag is getting stronger and
the crazy diamonds are shining on.
A seemingly endless night of drifting
in and out of consciousness is welcomed by
the sweet smell of smoke wafting through the air and the undeniable truth that life is what we make it.


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