Love is Real I Guess

Let’s be blunt,

Suddenly all the lights seem too bright for me and

I can feel the sting of how the artificial lights burn

Burning a hole into the crack den of

Trainspotting;

I spy with my little eyes a golden spoon

Feeding children addictions

But, Mother, we’re okay,

We’re all alright,

I swear;

On thy hallowed ground

We smoke to commemorate the dead cells,

Celebrate faded figures -

Oh, God, Ma, we’re so faded

And I’m fading quick;

Someone hear me, SOS,

Mama mia, por favor,

Favored we are not in the eyes of God

The only illumination we have is from the dying joint,

The embers twinkling across our faces

As we face a myriad of troubles climbing pyramids, climbing mountains,

Mountainous depression and anxiety and mania -

And I’m manic,

Doing what I shouldn’t

But it’s what I love,

So yeah love is real, I guess,

In the form of a blunt.