the art of story telling...
lit the blunt up as if it was my last taste of the sticky
spilling through my soul came of the life that I'm living
as the smoke hit the ceiling, so did my mind
sitting on Jupiter, I look down at how everyone else operates
scared to hit the soberness of reality, I roll up another and continue to smoke
fire from the lighter burned through my chest as I find it hard to breathe
laughing at the situation, coming down off the cloud I stop the laughter
tears fall from eyes, I think
contemplating mental suicide
I examine my ways,
why is it that I behave the way I do even though I know I can do better?
is it better for me to live in a fantasy world because life is too hard?
fuck it
life is a bitch anyway,
I guess I'll be a real lesbian and fuck her the way people have fucked me
no, I'm not talking about sex either, I'm talking about life
sort of like the cards dealt in the wrong hand, trying to play it right
laughing at myself, I lay my head back and light up another,
I need to kick this habit, but this habit has been too good to me
helping me to escape a life that's not perfect, full of imperfections
covered up in designer clothes and a "lavish" lifestyle
life full of phoniness from my hair, lashes, and friends
I digress
keeping myself sane I have to smoke
chronic is considered my gift from the Earth
drying the tears and cutting off the complaining, the smoke calms me
even though I know I need to keep the habit, the habit has been good to me
I bet you didn't know of the heartbreak and pain of my days
no, you don't know how it feels to walk in my shoes
I guarantee you that you won't want to see the things I've seen...
experience what I've experienced...
just....nevermind...
this is my story...told through the smoke of Mary Jane
Copyright© 2010
De'Shundra Gibson, All Rights Reserved
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