That Poetry High
Yesterday I smoked poetry, I
rolled metaphors into a blunt
and got high on the first stanza.
Then I got the munchies
so I ate poetry, and wrote
a verse with its crumbs.
I drank every drop of poetry
until the only thing left in
the bottle was a cheap cliche.
Like a long walk on the beach
under a blood orange sunset and
skinny dipping in open poetry.
We fucked for hours, like two
similies in love and I snuck
out when she fell asleep.
I need my own bed to recover
from this, from the spinning
kaleidoscopes of poetry.
