Aug 2018
I rolled the hurb on a piece of delicately cut paper, perfectly rectangular with perfect width and perfect height, so it'd make an equally perfect bed to this delicacy I was about to put in it. It was a friend, you see, this conjuring of a plant. It let me indulge in it's sweet essence while I burned it to ashes. It let me forget all my troubles as i pander to all it provided, still knowing it died while doing so.
Enough. Enough about the intimacy we shared. I'm losing momentum on my story.
So here I was sitting on my bedroom floor, feeling the subtle cold of the ground beneath me, hands crafting this masterpiece between my fingers. Papers flawlessly curled on top of each other made a graceful cylinder with a not so graceful hat on top. I held this magnum opus above my head so I could better yet inspect it. It took me an exact 25 minutes to get where I was, all steps combined to place me in this exact moment, in this exact time with a friend no lower than a lover. I put the end of it between my lips and squeezed ever so gently as if to reaffirm it's existence. I smiled a half crooked smile thinking of how I narrated each moment in my head before placing it on my half finished note book. I picked the match up (yes a match and not a lighter, I am old fashioned that way) from the floor where I had placed it before all processes began. It only took one try of experienced fingers to set the small stick ablaze and traveling to the tip of my art work. It caught fire. It was a redish-brown. The fire was extinguished as it fell from between my fingers.
A breath.
Another deep breath.
Peace.
I felt the smoke move through my mouth and down my throat or up to my head ( honestly, I have no idea how it does what it does) yet it traveled, traveled every where. I ****** and blew in uncounted intervals until my work was nothing but a dark splotch of ash between my fingers. I thought of blowing it away or cleaning it with a shirt I saw laying around but decided against it. It felt wrong somehow, as if I was degrading the level of familiarity we just shared. So instead I rubbed it between my fingers until it no longer existed.
This felt weirdly like all the relationships i've had.
Formed, challenged, completed. Yet a smudge is left.
Enough. Enough about the intimacy we shared. I'm losing momentum on my story.
So here I was sitting on my bedroom floor, feeling the subtle cold of the ground beneath me, hands crafting this masterpiece between my fingers. Papers flawlessly curled on top of each other made a graceful cylinder with a not so graceful hat on top. I held this magnum opus above my head so I could better yet inspect it. It took me an exact 25 minutes to get where I was, all steps combined to place me in this exact moment, in this exact time with a friend no lower than a lover. I put the end of it between my lips and squeezed ever so gently as if to reaffirm it's existence. I smiled a half crooked smile thinking of how I narrated each moment in my head before placing it on my half finished note book. I picked the match up (yes a match and not a lighter, I am old fashioned that way) from the floor where I had placed it before all processes began. It only took one try of experienced fingers to set the small stick ablaze and traveling to the tip of my art work. It caught fire. It was a redish-brown. The fire was extinguished as it fell from between my fingers.
A breath.
Another deep breath.
Peace.
I felt the smoke move through my mouth and down my throat or up to my head ( honestly, I have no idea how it does what it does) yet it traveled, traveled every where. I ****** and blew in uncounted intervals until my work was nothing but a dark splotch of ash between my fingers. I thought of blowing it away or cleaning it with a shirt I saw laying around but decided against it. It felt wrong somehow, as if I was degrading the level of familiarity we just shared. So instead I rubbed it between my fingers until it no longer existed.
This felt weirdly like all the relationships i've had.
Formed, challenged, completed. Yet a smudge is left.
