THC Meets Poetry

New Religion

I’m dancing in the falling pixie dust. The golden glitter on starts to absorb into my skin to go for a swim in my bloodstream. Suddenly I start to feel this rush….. My heart begins to race so fast that I worry it may spontaneously combust. My temperature is rising to something feverish. I think I may have fallen into the hands of lust.

I put faith in these dollar bills to keep me hooked on highs and cheap thrills, but when I come down my body is sick with a bad case of the chills. Maybe I’ll make it worse with some prescription pills. I’m feeling good now. A little adventurous. Think I’m gonna take a hike up in the hills. Should I get down on my knees and pray there?

Would god even listen to me at this point? Yeah probably not, but it’s whatever. I’m making a new religion, and it involves rolling this next joint. Let me go over the list of activities for those who are interested in following me through the clouds of smoke. On dark nights we cut ourselves as punishment for being reckless and impulsive. We do this with feelings of shame. We are repulsive.

On the weekends we shall drink till we can’t think. Dumping some out for my bestie in the sink. Keeping the shots coming until the flashbacks shrink. I created this religion for the lost and rejected. The filthy and the unprotected. The little souls hunched over and dejected.

As long as the green is in the bowl we’ll start to feel numb and unaffected. We’ll be apathetic and disconnected. No fucks given is the attitude that I expect to be obtained and perfected. This is a cult for the neglected and the infected. Let’s face it, we’re all a little contagious. I think spreading our germs among each other is pretty courageous. Sharing is difficult ya know? To a cult full of selfish narcissists, being generous sounds absolutely outrageous!

With my faith fading, I might as well tell you my secrets now.
I’m only here for the beginning. When a single kiss gets you feeling drunk and you’re spinning. When you can do no wrong and you’re always winning. When the sex is so good you feel like you’re sinning.

I’m addicted to sadness. I crave the excruciating pain of my heart shattering. Watching the deep and intense glow of blood splattering. Dulling the sounds of all the outside chattering. 

I’m the loser still living at home with his mom, I can’t seem to get a fucking job so I just sit here and sob. What rights do I think I have to walk around acting like a damn snob? I know I’m lower class. I’m low quality. You’ll only ever get a piece of me, never all of me. I’m the man in the mirror you wish you never had to see. Can’t you tell that I’m beginning to lose my sanity?

There’s no hope left for me. I’m gonna be homeless when my mother leaves me to be with the lord. She’s been eager to meet him for as long as I can remember. Her beaten spirit is burning out like a dying ember. We don’t really talk anymore and I know that it’s my fault. I’m sorry mom, I’m sorry that I’m such a disappointing and shitty adult. I’m sorry that I am forever going to be bound to my ever-growing green cult.