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I
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I walked with my communist looking blanket tied around my neck,
I had long ago stolen them from an airoplane and like then,
they still did everything you wouldn't expect from a thin blanket.
getting prung and pricked as the buckberry bushes punctured,
me and my communist looking blanket, but atlass I made it,
torn by thorns and all, to the half iced over ****** dam,
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II
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this is where I was greeted not by my friends, as they happened to be there,
No, I was greeted warmly by the fire they made,
as they burned detention slips, and failed tests, and anything alike,
it made me take fire 101 control of things, as I spit out,
you can not put wet leaves in this fire, stay ten feet away from the fire,
but it would soon be done,
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III
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when it was, we broke up some of the remaining ice from the dam,
placing it on top of the fire as gracefully as you could,
my fingers were once so warmed by that fire, now so cold from the ice,
we went and sat on the rock, and I wrapped my communist blanket around me,
I went into my bag, and pulled out my sock that had my bogs inside it,
I never like to smoke with people, I never really smoked more then two drags
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IV
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when I needed to let my edge off, I smoked, and it was a rare thing I did,
under my communist blanket, with ice cold hands I unwrapped my sock,
I pulled out my new pack of spirits and my lighter, and offered anyone with me a bog.
Everyone but one of my friends took me up on it, so I told him,
he can have the rest of what I don't smoke, I only smoke two hits,
I put the bog in between my ******* and my ring finger on my right hand,
I couldn't lite it with the wind, I said,
but, it's because people were there.
He lit my bog for me, I smoked more then I normally do and handed it off,
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V
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What was to come soon after was what one,
wishes they could escape to there bedroom with their communist blanket,
and then cry,
he finished what he wanted on the bog,
leaving me with a little more then half,
I put it out and put it away,
my other two friends pulled out a bog each of their own,
as I began to pick up all the little pieces of paper that didn't burn,
I threw them with my ice cold hands into the dam,
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VI
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by then they were almost done with there bogs, when one asked me,
"Can I try to burn your arm?"
as she stuck her bog in her mouth before I could respond,
she went into my communist red blanket, and pulled my arm out,
hold my arm with one hand, she took the bog in the other pressing it lightly,
She asked me "does it hurt?" I muttered "no" still shocked,
She went and did it again, this time higher up while twisting it in,
next to a set of new burns I had done myself a few night back,
I didn't even feel what she did, but she went through a layer of skin,
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VII
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her and the other girl, proceeded to try to lightly burn themselves,
a half a second touch on the top of the arm, that's what hurt more.
I looked at my friend, and he looked really confused, I was too.
I went into the iced over pond, and pulled out ice,
trying to get the ash out of my arm,
only causing my fingers to freeze more under my communist blanket,
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VIII
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*I was unable to continue watching them play around and burn their flesh,
I walked back up, and said I need to be alone,
and I never made myself feel more alone under my communist blanket.
I know it was my fault, for I had let her do it,
I didn't dare say stop, but then they did it to themselves.
why couldn't me of been enough?
bogs where I am from are cigs. if you didn't know.