Sensations
Strike lighter, pull in, remove the bowl, clear.
Burning, bubbling, glass on glass, suction.
Smoke rising, a slight sting, full lungs (try not to cough.)
Head spaces. Time slowed. Lights altered.
Dots dots dots everywhere
everything is made of dots.
It feels like my head is underwater.
All the muscles loosen up/
The world loosens up. Blissfully.
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.