they say weed will give a man boobs,
i'm pretty sure its the pizza.
they say weed can not kill a man
under any circumstance.
now, i stand by my green dragon
and my green-orange dragon,
but i know my survival now
depends on my will not to ride them---
for three solid weeks,
each night a hell of mind,
a heart beating 3X fast
skin on fire, testicles retracted,
musculature failing, pain in all extremities,
vision bubbled, loss of speech, and spasm.
heart attack symptoms, stroke symptoms,
the creme de la creme of fear!
three vendors, four bud-types,
eighteen trips the same horror
all my angels renounced me,
the mystical door shut on my fingers,
a spiritual lubricant, sure
i've said hello now to mr. ice cold darkness.
this may be my reward for wanting proof
of the divine realm,
for navigating by increments of science
and leaving faith checked at the door.
through it all, i am ever weed's friend,
it wasn't you, my friend, it was me---
it is me who must say 'farewell dragon'
i knocked too hard on the cherub's door,
i woke the cause of the door
i am stalked now, stalked---forget sleep,
the nightmare is alive and well
and i must try to remember how
to be brave, where i put fearless,
why i thought so towards divine things
and how i swam in boiling seas before
how it was i spanned the spiritual
walked the spirit walk.
all this will return, i am sure, in time.
for now, well, for now i need no more
lubricant, no more step ladder---
this is not a schizophrenic episode
this is not a bad trip
my delta waves are normal, i would bet,
this is not product of fast turning thoughts,
this is real, by god it is real!
and i am comfortable knowing it so
phase in, phase out, man boobs, pizza, haunting.
c'est la vie!
anyway, middle-aged woman sits alone on bench,
talks to herself and bites whipped cream,
i step on my cigarette.
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