Baked and Writing(influential)

...Today has seemed to be an almost spiritual trip...and a quiet little walk down memory lane...
For some reason, I thought it might be warm today, but, luckily I thought my legs looked hella flabby in that short pair of shorts, so I quietly changed into jeans, not realizing they were indeed the pair that had never been able to hug my hips and sagged. For some other reason I had also picked out a white tank top that never quiet stayed below my belly-button, and, if I kept my posture taught, it didn't look too bad...Especially is I kept my long, man's-style blue and white over shirt placed conveniently over it, so all the viewer glimpsed was a teasing hint of my hip bone.
...I walked out in my dirty black vans, back-pack over my shoulder with a black hoodie (of all things embellished with a white skull) covering the black iron-cross bracelette my significant other so lovingly placed upon my wrist.
It was a misty day, my hair curly and wild, but a deep almost coal-goen ember color, and glistening with well-groomed shine (hell yes I glorify myself); and... I felt the memories of days past when I would make my attempts at skateboarding, then taking a break to enjoy a pop-top cold one at a buddies.
...It was only 7:00 something in the morning as I headed toward my lover's home where so often I could be found...Nobody was home, unexpectedly, and something fluttered inside me. I opened the door and crept into his room, set my shit down on the floor and ran a loving finger tip over the bottom of his foot as I removed my shoes and climbed into bed; as I heard a sleepy "Hello love,I missed you!"...
My cold hands proved to providea bit of discomfort, so a blanket separated my cold digits from touching his sensitive and hot stomach flesh. But it wasn't a bad thing, don't think that.
That's when he asked me if I wanted a wake and bake... I am a hard lady to get high, so anymore I took an apathetic view toward smoking...
That's when he said that we could smoke from his bong.
I wasn't too keen on it, but took a rip (since he insisted so politely...well, it made me proud. jeez.) and nearly fell off the bed coughing....I sat up, and immediately felt like falling down.
I was actually high, not...rip-roarin' high, but I felt good, as if no headache or pain could penetrate my delicate brain.
And took another, before he offered to go smoke out of his parents' bong. (yes, but don't tell.)
At first I was skeptical, thinking it disrespectful as his parents were amazing people; however, he insisted and finall we sat on the kitchen floor and placed his carb in the stem... It was too small, but his congeniality proved that O-ring's were extremely useful. ....

I said something before he started that bong-rips were beautiful, and this bong was beautiful... Because, if you think about it, they are... The amazing somewhat simple-but INGENIUS science behind how the water bubbles and hardly ever gets in your mouth (unless you're doing something wrong, it's rarely the bongs' fault)...Then...Let me gasp, for DON'T get me started on the smoke and how it reacts behind the glass, as it floats up toward your throat and...let out the carb-SHOOP!...Straight shot into the lungs.


...I took one.



Wow. It was...amazing, to say the least. I've smoked out of bongs before, but...It was a very spiritual and almost erotic (in a mentally sexual way, I suppose) experience and it makes me tingle with delight to have traveled down this road.


Now I'm grooving to soothing Ne-Yo "Because of You", and Baby Bash's assorted music, just watching the day come... It's 8:35...You are all asleep or at school. (Get your educations young-ones, seriously.)


I wish there was more to write, but there IS. ... I just don't have any...proper way to tie it into this particular story.


...Brain is set on implode.