It will not leave me alone. I told E not to pass me that shit, but he did, and the ciggarette, thru it's cancerous, mischievous pleasure coerced me to spark it... Hence it begun, I let the lighter beget my luck. I roofed it at first, or so I calculated... But yet I walked up Tioga street yesterday and there it was, sitting in the hand of a crack fiend... I wanted the lighter, there was no doubt in my mind about it. I politely asked the crack head for my property as I took my coach hat off and turned the gucci frames upwards, permanately glaring at the sky with their deep black tint and state-of-the-art UV protection. He gave it to me, his hands crackly and calloused from years of drug abuse, punches and furious and disturbing masturbation habits and addictions. Thinking back I should have broken his hands. I should have broken his fucking legs, and his fucking back... I should have grabbed the blue razer blade with which I slice my dutches back ( FUCK AND I REPEAT FUCK UNROLLING THE OUTER LEAF, REAL NINJAS SLICE IT AND BUTCHER THAT DUTCH THEN STUFF IT UP.) and went all in his fucking arteries like I do ninjas these days. I don't mean to bear such contempt and pain in my heart, but my soul is pitch black... marijuana smoke echoes in my soul as my ego dissapears and turns into something nonexistant, or to nothing, nothing like me. Like I am, like I will remain. After giving me the lighter, I exclaimed to him in my deepest and hoarsest voice that I wanted a ciggarete. He didn't hesitate to lie, but I saw the GREEN BOX... That green box was a siren, a call unanswered. I should have answered it, I should have beat him to death and stabbed him for betraying his brother. I've sold crack to him before, and he's sold me random goods he's acquired in the streets of North Philly. White lighter, again, yet again u stare me down, u look thru me as if transperancy were an inherent human property. But I am too deep for your shallow albino paleness. U remind me of the brothers whom spilled the blood of my forefathers all over the soil where our women nourished our children, where indians yearned for freedom, yearned for the sacred knowledge... listened to the silence of the stars and withheld the esoteric knowledge that the sun bears. It knows what we all know, it runs thru the plastic veins and tubes in my white lighter. It runs thru me as well... Lighter and I, my lighter and me, you light my cigars, stogies and Ls, bogies and sensi smell... White lighter, please, turn me into a fighter. Luck be with us, white lighter.
Did you by any chance get really stoned and just write what came to your mind? I've done that before and the result was similar to this story.
It was dusky as a motherfucker... I didn't really feel like going to faces, Big faces, that is. The bar on 8th and Venango... My boys go there, I go there. I'm broke as fuck lately. Ever since I lost my manager job at JCP I never fucking came up again. I almost did, I even held thousands, but nothing grand. Nothing like me, like my style.. I like splurging something vicious.. constantly. Perhaps I was born to move that yola, but I haven't met myself yet, he'll tell me what to do.. Nonetheless my oldheads were there, and so were my boys, and thus my brothers rwere there. I'm fucking Colombian, I'm fucking 5'5" NO LIE. I live in the middle of the hood... I wasn't born into this shit, I was born into colombia, into cocaine kingdom, bullet proof capital, the shit *****, the motherfucking shit. Yet I was sworn in, they will die for me, I will die for them, they will ride for me, I will ride for them, I would raise their kids as if they were the fruit of my testicles... I would go to jail, and thus they would reverse the favor. THey would embrace a beating, as I embraced that beating from Mar and Mike. Zeze shouldn't have fucking touchedme. But that's another post, another day, and another toke. ANyhow I was in big faces and there comes in my white lighter bearing fiend. Looking confused and dingy as ever, smellier as dog shit on a california sunset, cold as a dog in a snowy alley.... FUCK HIM, I RAN TOWARDS HIM. I got stopped, and consequently knocked out by a lady with humoungous tits and a very big ass. SHe saved us.
I used to have a white lighter until i accidently dropped it into a sink full of water. White lighter = bad vibes
I went to NYC for the weekend, took the white lighter with me, I figured life was going swell, so what the fuck could a little bad luck do to a big bad, short motherfucker like JDA? Nothing, right? Yeah, nothing. Well, there I was getting off this fucking ghetto ass chinese bus company bus filled with chinos and mexicans and every other race, but mostly chinos. IT SMELLED LIKE SHIT, the entire fucking ride. Ginger shits with garlic broth, perhaps a little hot dog water to increase the pungency of this vile, venomous odorous shit... The breaths, I didn't feel em, but I smelled em.. ANyway I get off the bus and get on a train.. NYC sub, a miasma of shit, a miasma of secluded, underground shit, from everywhere a massive toilet in my opinion. On my egress from the Sub I begin dialing out, to my cousin Jon. I do so, and he indeed answers, and then I wave to him, I saw him, YES. He had haze on him, I had some north philly piff, reggie bush which he never smoked. And we went over to a chinese girls house, funny hah? She too agreed with me, chinese busses are foul fucking stuff, nuff 'o dat though. I wanted to fuck her, she even made aslight move at me but I just met her, and I didn't really care. I control every substance and addiction in my life, pussy was one I could patiently wait for, or violently take (no not rape, but i'll rip em panties off and give er nirvana in a sec) We drunk, ate jello shots and smoked sour diesel and some fucking awesome kush or something. My cousin is nuts with his vanilla dutches, he unwraps the shit, cuts it into a small strip, breaks it up meticulously and rolls the brown paper, then ravels the leaf on it. It burns fast and smokes smoother than a 'cedes... We smoked this, drank that, ate this, and left. I want to see her again and want to add her to my facebook, I want some chiense ny pussy, I need it. But that's the next time. NOW, WHITE LIGHTER. White lighter sat in my pocket a lot, I didn't watnt to expose it to what NYC was, it was mean...Grimiest city on earth... Not one fucker gave me a loosie, in Philly people give U two cigs sometimes, NY? NADA. Cold indeed, and I was gettin frosty too. We awoke, the white lighter and I and looked out the window... Nothing, no cats, this was a nicer neighborhood in jersey and I was used to seeing the random starving horny and cold felines outside of my ghetto house in my derelict neighborhood in north philly. But yet nothing. Not even people, just nice cars and houses and my family there. AND THE WHITE LIGHTER... It sat quietly, it never beckoned me, it didn't beget a nicotine craving, not even one. but I beckoed it, I begetted my marijuana addiction, which is bullshit considering I quit until I get a job somewhere... and thus I called the lighter... Before I pulled the lighter out I inhaled the unlit dutch, just to taste the purple magic which was about to bless my cardio-vascular system with it's essence. Sour diesel, ahhhhhhh sour fucking diesel... and that fucking white lighter... I pulled him out, and he was white as ever, milk-white, even racist white that fucker. I should have grabbed a black sharpie and disgraced his plain facade... Perhpas put him under my fucked up dodge neon so that whenever and if ever that car gets fixed that fucking lighter would explode under the pressure of tires, and butane. White lighter u aren't even worthy of ur plastic enclosin, not the butane, not the metal... Shiny metal at that, white lighter u deserve onyx black NOTHING. White lighter u deserve to go into space and mesh with the black matter u motherfucker... Had I known who created u, I would have ended his miserable life before he put u into circulation, before the crack head and before the world. Fuck time and that white lighter, they are in cahoots i swear. White lighter waits for time and time waits for me, it's mutual, cooperative, devilish. Back to Jersey/NYork.. I pulled him out, and it glanced at me as I glared at it. The dutch was neutral, it didn't deal with lucks or karmas or gods or obamas, none of that nut ass shit u fucking feeble humans jerk off over perpetually... fucking jerk offs. Nonetheless I flicked it once and perhaps I was hallucinating, perhaps that month of smoking PCP fucked me up permanantly, but I swore it lit before the spark... Perhaps the spark was incognito, but there was no noise either... I DON'T FUCKING LIK QUESTION MARKS, NO CLIFF HANGING, NO SUSPENSE. KILL IT NOW, BEFORE I KILL IT. I know everything that's going to happen, I've gauged it all from here to infinity and I know it well. I dwell in a fucked up place...THat's why I love Sherm and why i'll never smoke it again, it makes it real. I get caught in the matrix with the sherm, it's strange and mystic. I see shit I neversaw, I understand the misunderstood and that which has no means of being understood ever. Fuck that white lighter, I'll telll ya later.