Hey guys, Spaz here. Well, I've been having a rough time trying to do the right thing. Get a job, move out, support myself, and beat my addictions all at once. I've been working on it, with no progress. I realized things take time, and just starting a new life style was progress. I was gonna go continue writing on my book, but wasn't feeling the idea of writing about drugs right now. I wrote a poem ( very long) about smoking at night, that transitions into the love I have for a new smoker in the group. Hope you enjoy! Took me about 30-45 minutes to write up. Smoking In The Night The night is my home, where I go out to play, I sit at home eagerly, waiting all day. Dusk breaks, and a feeling fills my heart, I twist my blunt, and shall begin my part. I creep out into the empty and cold world, The icy wind began to howl and swirl. I look around, and nothing moves about, I roast my blunt openly, without a doubt. For this is habitual every night I am alone, I venture to the darkness and smoke ‘till blown. But it's more to me than smoking in the dark, There's freedom which each lighter spark. The smoke rises, to be among the stars, Followed by the smoke of other ganja cigars. See, this time at night truly is the best, So peaceful as the THC fills my chest. This whole town has stopped, nothing does creep, And up the broken promises of day does the wind sweep. This little moment of calmness is ours to keep, As this whole town quietly is asleep. The cops roll ‘round to catch us in the act, Yet we fade into the night with another bowl packed. You see, there's nothing that can stop the night, And we ain't stop blazin' without a fight. But I love this nighttime for so much more, So many reasons I can't account for. There's the stars, and the moon to shine, With no one around, it's all mine. I have all this beauty, all to my own, But there's something missing, I'm all alone. A feeling of being empty, a feeling of pity, I wish someone could share this moment with me. Yet I stand in my driveway, blunt in hand, And then it happened, something I ain't planned. I close my eyes with the wind in my hair, I see her, for she is standing there. This beautiful angel sent from up above, Something new filled my chest, it was love. How did her face enter into my mind, I tried to look away, but it's all I'd find. It stayed with me, all thorough out my smoke, Wish she was really here, cause I knew she'd toke. We'd talk, laugh and cry, And perhaps she'd find her guy. I coughed, and wished for it so, Stop tempting me, make your face go. For a reason unknown, I stepped back inside, I was fucking high, and wanted to hide. I wanted her face to leave my sight, Or keep me company, outside in the starry night. I sat and rolled another fat dutch, But the smoke, it wouldn't help much. I couldn't wait to see her soon, And smoke beneath another star lit moon. I knew each night she'd be there, Each night at a friends, it wasn't fair. Visions are so tempting, and so real, And they often bring out exactly how we feel. Yet when we're around the ones we like, There's a mental lock clamped around our psyche. We can't talk, we don't know what to say, And we talk, but thoughts begin to stray. Back to the night, and to her captive gaze, Back to the blunt, and to some silver haze. Smoke together often, but never just us, You start to wonder why you fuss. Then you look into her eyes, and look deep, Just then she catches you, catches your peep. She wonders why you look at her with that face, She doesn't understand your love, nothing could displace. But you don't have the courage to say what you want, And for the night, my dreams did her face haunt. Back outside, to blaze solo, Knowing she'll probably say no. Yet the moon is forgiving, it's light shines down, Knowing there is no innocence in this town. You know it too, many times your hearts broke, You decide to talk to her, then you choke. You walk away, shamed and afraid, And it's back to the blunt you made. Knowing she's been fucked, called a useless slut, Yet her smile has en-captured you in a rut. Chillin in the basement, everyone starts to arrive, And yet she still knows not, she's how you survive. You look forward to every night smoking with this perfection, Wishing you could confide in her your affection. One night, you say quietly inside, But is it worth getting denied? Is all this love really what it seems, Or is it another one of those dreams. Those times where it all feels right, Those times where you're alone, smoking in the night. ~spAz~
Haha that's weird man. I've been writing for awhile, and since I was younger I wanted to write about things than many people probally felt. You know, there's really good descriptive writing with raw skill, yet it may not be relavent to our lives at all. I don't have this ability ( or don't like it) to write about anything. I'm sure I can do it, but I like writing about how I feel, things on the inside. This was the first sober writing I've done in awhile. I actually like it.