Smoke Myself to Sleep

Know I’ve been heavy on the pot, carcinogenic imagery and whatnot, but I’m caught between the smoke and a hard place. 

Hallucinations fakin’ orgasms of authenticity when you take my city and call it a slum, sitting so far above the fumes. 

Elephants imagined are now testing the room, spoon fed our self-esteem, a meal we refused. 

Listening to the ravens croon like voices in my head you invited in seems preemptive, their broken sentences just scavengers, 


sites of massacres in our stead.

So I lay that sanity to rest, superfluous consent of courtship between my worst and your best;

searching for the tiny threads of silver lining in the bedrock of everything lost to find the smallest of gains is a lullaby I can’t sustain 

and so I smoke myself to sleep.

2 thoughts on “Smoke Myself to Sleep

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