I was 15 years old
when I tried ******
for the first time.
I got it from an older girl
with a mane of obsidian
hair and a porcelain face
shaped like all
her teardrops.
She told me she'd let me
**** her
if I went to prom with her.
I didn't want to **** her;
she smelled like
the Boston Harbor.
I smoked the ******
that first time.
Gray smoke curled thickly
into the damp air of
a basement haunt--
in the Georgian heat
the rain had steamed away.
It tasted like the sands of Persia
or the ambrosia of Mount
Olympus.
It smelled awful;
burnt rubber after a highway
blowout.
I couldn't move;
I sat on my moth-eaten
sofa, dozing in and out
of life in a golden daze.
Everything was golden then
in that instant and I knew
the golden love of a mother's
glowing gaze for the first time.
Then I heaved and my stomach
purged itself.
Then I knew the black hate
of my own vicious glare
for the first time and awoke
an hour later.
Then I threw up my guts
again.
When I woke to the sounds of silence
once more I was confronted
with a golden warmth
and the feeling of the presence
of the Sacred Heart--
and I knew that I loved it.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
I was 15 years old
when I tried ******
for the first time.
I got it from an older girl
with a mane of obsidian
hair and a porcelain face
shaped like all
her teardrops.
She told me she'd let me
**** her
if I went to prom with her.
I didn't want to **** her;
she smelled like
the Boston Harbor.
I smoked the ******
that first time.
Gray smoke curled thickly
into the damp air of
a basement haunt--
in the Georgian heat
the rain had steamed away.
It tasted like the sands of Persia
or the ambrosia of Mount
Olympus.
It smelled awful;
burnt rubber after a highway
blowout.
I couldn't move;
I sat on my moth-eaten
sofa, dozing in and out
of life in a golden daze.
Everything was golden then
in that instant and I knew
the golden love of a mother's
glowing gaze for the first time.
Then I heaved and my stomach
purged itself.
Then I knew the black hate
of my own vicious glare
for the first time and awoke
an hour later.
Then I threw up my guts
again.
When I woke to the sounds of silence
once more I was confronted
with a golden warmth
and the feeling of the presence
of the Sacred Heart--
and I knew that I loved it.
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