Posted by Ana Castillo on Friday, January 3, 2014
Some Call it Cannabis
It heals the soul, right?
Tampers your memory, doesn't seem so.
I can't control them, how they feel.
No way to prevent my emotions either
I bleed hesitation, I bleed drugs.
I don't need it, I want it,
So, does that mean I need it?
Its my consultation, she understands me.
She's beautiful. They call her,
But the wreath of my breath against hers,
it wakes me.
She's beautiful, with her luscious red lips,
the green meadows that round her hips.
The spikes that makes any man bleed.
Happiness, she is my happiness.
She will always stay, until I light her away.
But leaves me in the zone, in control,
I love you Mary Jane
Love & War
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Media Studies Major at Queens College Photographer, Writer and Enthusiast The world is my my book, I edit the pages.
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