my best friend

Smoke adjoins the clean air. Intoxicating my senses with pleasures that grasp my body and lifts me up. Surrounding me, touching every bit of me. Holding on to me as if it will never let go. Embracing me with the most comforted hug, the chance that I could be this consoled by anyone else is beyond the impossible. I fall deeper into this conscious dream with every significant habit formed inhale. Overwhelming the atmosphere of more smoke, enough to grasp my hand this time. The delusional touch holds my hand through times like this, squeezing tightly; reassuring this is a better place. Relying on this “good friend” I have, to permanently be here with me through tempestuous times. I never want my friend to release this hold of me. Infatuated with this bolstering feeling, I plead to wire you internal everlastingly.


Distracted from your luxury, mesmerized by your security from the pain. Though your touch is fading, my friend. This illusion is drifting; I’m slowly decreasing my satisfied state of mind. I’m distinctly falling from contentment. Reality comes forward ecstatically, this tight grasp you’ve had on me releases, letting of our great “friendship”.