Smoke gently flushes through

My parched lips and toward the

Night sky, toward the darkness,

Before evaporating before my eyes.

The tip of the blunt lights up

As I bring it to my lips

And repeat the process.

Eyes getting red,

Head getting light,

Fiery smoke drowning my lungs

Before rushing out of my mouth.

The streets are littered with trash,

In a part of the city where

Police don’t roam.

Hookers on the street corner,

Appealing to the men passing by.

Distancing myself from all of this,

As I keep puffing.

The city in the distance, with the

Glass walls on their building,

And high ceilings.

Sky scrapers getting lost in the clouds,

Clean streets on the ground.

Banks and business live there,

All we got here are liquor

And video stores.

Smoke flutters out of my mouth,

Toward the sky.

I am not a part of this city,

Or that one.

I’m in my own world,

Just puffing.

Just puffing.

The world seems to get smaller,

The streets don’t seem so dirty,

The hookers disappear.

I don’t look up to the city in the distance,

As I stand here.

I take another puff, toss the

Blunt on the ground.

Breath in the crisp, cool night,

Cleaning my lungs.

This is my city.

This is my home.

2 thoughts on “Cities

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