Metaphors

Discussion in 'Real Life Stories' started by Undead, Jun 4, 2010.

  1. So I'm doing my semi-daily thing. Out on the porch, I light my newp, cancer never tasted so minty. Am I still high, can't really remember, don't really care. I am taking some massive drags If I do say so myself. Head cocked to the right I stare into the starless beyond. Nothing interesting. I damn the monotony and continue with my routine. Pull, think. Pull, think. Pull think. Check to the left, same deal. Staring in front of me is my unashed cig. It's bright orange and red veins are pumped with fire. A limp ash later and the cig takes form of an emblazaned spear.
    Voice in my head says, "Shit man, check that out. Although the bogue is not hitting you, the fumes are piercing your lungs like... well a spear. Slowly, but surely it's working itself into your mind, fitting isn't it. Too fitting. It's like God has hidden metaphors within our everyday objects and activites and it's our job to find them. What do you think?"
    Other voice, "Should schizophrenics get more than one vote?"
     
  2. I might be really high but I read this as a poem and it fucking moved me. This was deep as hell.
     
  3. I've thought of that before. That's the way that God communicates with me, through thoughts.
     
  4. #4 Bongin Shaman, Jun 4, 2010
    Last edited by a moderator: Jun 4, 2010
    So I'm doing my daily thing. Out on the porch, I light my joint, chronic never tasted so minty. Am I still high, can't really remember, don't really care. I am taking some massive hits If I do say so myself, tokin on that joint. Head cocked to the right I stare into the starl lit beyond. everything's shiney and amazing. I love the spontinuity and continue with my routine. Pull, think. Pull, think. Pull think. Check to the left, same deal. Staring in front of me is my unashed joint. It's bright orange and red veins are pumped with fire. A limp ash later and the doobie takes form of an emblazaned spear.
     

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