Hit-Drop

Breathe in the smog

And receive clarity.

Let it fill your head

With ever-expanding

Hazy enlightenment.

 

Wash it down with a sugarcube.

 

Plastered against the hillside

As the world rushes away.

The wind kisses your fingers

And the sun licks your face.

 

You fold over inside yourself

As you sit in the faerie circle

That you and your friends have made: 

 

Glasses jumps up and down for no reason

Dancing to a muted record

As the coven wonders why.

 

The young geezer and his brothers aren't here.

Red wine holds them over until Saturday.

 

Over there's Gautama

Sitting on a pretzel;

Taking the formal route.

 

Beelzy's the first to break into the chips

As usual.

 

You bounce up and down on a cloud,

Laughing at unheard jokes

As the balloon in your skull

Tickles your scalp.

 

You are, then you aren't

They are you are everything:

Rose-quartz 

Looking out of a marble head

Set upon an alabaster body.

 

Roots emerge from your feet

Tunneling into the earth.

Push the branches out of your head

And grasp the sky.

 

The first sound in the universe

Hums out of your lips

As supernovas burst from your ears and nose

And galaxies coagulate in your eyes.