hippiejenny
Jenny. Pretty Jenny smoked buds. Big shimmery fatties with purple threads. Smoke encircled her head like a wreath. Hair like Rapunzel- soft with daisys and dreads. Jenny could feeeeeeeeeel the music and touch it just between the notes. She could taste it. She did. A sister of golden hair surprise. At shows, it was always Jenny touching, becoming light- Jenny got real meaning from being high as a kite. Jenny was experienced. Jenny and her lover had tantric sex. We could watch. They touched God. They were God. God. Jenny in the sky with diamonds. Beautiful butterfly. Free. Loved. Amity enveloped her like a cloak of loveliness. So true and earthy.Me. My buds were tiny and laced. Enthreaded with sadness. Always looking for the confident beauties. Kept tasting. Puffed them all. And then some. My spark never lit. My lover, how he enticed me, named me bitch and whore. No wait... what was it? Cumdumpster. But how he could touch between the vibrations! Like Jenny! He probably touched God with Jenny. Was God. Music tinkling, echoing against my yellow teeth, shaky limbs &
thin skin, me always slurring over notes out of my grasp. Tripping and falling into the back of a cruiser. No cloak for me. Coughing and spacey. Earthy and dirty. Just filthy. Still ugly.
No comments:
Post a Comment