How I crave the delicious scent
Of your hash browned innards
Bursting into flames,
Filling the air with your intoxicating smoke
As the sun rises over my coffee.
How I love your chewy cotton ass
The yellow/orange color of sandwich cheese
Sitting on the shelf at 7/11
Dated March 1987.
I need to feel you
Filling my soul
During our quickie between classes.
On the darkest night
Crawling through the city black
You light my path
With cherries burning bright.
You are hand crafted by the
Machina of The Man
Where your natural beauty
Is pumped full of more chemicals
Than a movie stars face.
And worse yet The Man
Tells us - in big block letters -
His exact intentions.
So they take take take that 5 dollars,
Every single day.
And they take take take another
Because The Man
He controls the medication too,
So you pay him to get sick
And also to recoup.
But does he fix this problem?
They drag it out
To take your dough.
I am not saying
Please please - puff away
Smoke hand rolled organic cigars
Grown in an urban renegade garden
Springing life from corporate trash.
Please please puff away,
On that silly green smoke;
I am not here to say
Just think for a moment
Where your cash goes
And make sure they are not pulling it
From your ass and your nose.