Internalisé 1985
Jun. 20th, 2006 03:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbcThere's a place for us
Some people think it's hypocritical to bust people for smoking up when I do it myself every night. Fuck 'em, stupid enough to get caught you deserve what you get.
Somewhere a place for us
The roommates like me, or think I'm fucked up enough to not bother arguing with, or maybe don't give a shit. But they know that when I slip into my bedroom quietly, they should pretend I'm not in. Lock door. Put towel down at the floor so no one can smell the weed. Shut the blinds. Dim the lights.
Peace and quiet
Joints are liking fucking cigarettes--they're messy, leave ashes and smell nasty. Bongs are more economical, and the smoke you smoke is the smoke you make: no burning roach. Most nights are a two-hitter; one's nothing and three will render me wholly incapable of feigning coherence should the fire alarms go off. Bong, weed, lighter, beer (Bleu), stereo. Ready.
There's a time for us
CDs are relatively new and very cool. I power up the stereo, cue up track 12, pause it. Pop open a Bleu. Load up and fire up. Hold it. Open window a crack. Exhale. Chug. Lather, rinse, repeat, until the hum and crackle starts. Put everything away (except the Bleu and the stereo) before too out of it. Did I lock the door? (yes) Hit play. Lie back.
Some day there'll be a time for us
Cold beer is always good, but the way it cools your throat after a nice strong bong hit...well that's magic. If you drink it too fast you bloat; too slow it gets warm. Warm beer when you're high is even nastier than warm beer when you're....not high.
Some daaaay, some waaaay
Oh my fucking god! Waaaaaay! (am I too loud? Shhhh) I close my eyes and see the universe.
We'll find a new way of living
Crying. Can't stop.
We'll find a way of forgiving
Can't.
There's a place for us, a time and a place for us
Can't stop. Face in pillow through the sobs. (am I too loud?)
[silence]
Yank out the secret stash of homo porn and the bottle of poppers. Used to prefer the stories to the pictures, but the weed and the tears making reading too much work. But my cock is so sensitive when I'm stoned, so it doesn't take more than a couple of tugs and one good snort.
Some people think it's hypocritical to bust people for smoking up when I do it myself every night. Fuck 'em, stupid enough to get caught you deserve what you get.
Somewhere a place for us
The roommates like me, or think I'm fucked up enough to not bother arguing with, or maybe don't give a shit. But they know that when I slip into my bedroom quietly, they should pretend I'm not in. Lock door. Put towel down at the floor so no one can smell the weed. Shut the blinds. Dim the lights.
Peace and quiet
Joints are liking fucking cigarettes--they're messy, leave ashes and smell nasty. Bongs are more economical, and the smoke you smoke is the smoke you make: no burning roach. Most nights are a two-hitter; one's nothing and three will render me wholly incapable of feigning coherence should the fire alarms go off. Bong, weed, lighter, beer (Bleu), stereo. Ready.
There's a time for us
CDs are relatively new and very cool. I power up the stereo, cue up track 12, pause it. Pop open a Bleu. Load up and fire up. Hold it. Open window a crack. Exhale. Chug. Lather, rinse, repeat, until the hum and crackle starts. Put everything away (except the Bleu and the stereo) before too out of it. Did I lock the door? (yes) Hit play. Lie back.
Some day there'll be a time for us
Cold beer is always good, but the way it cools your throat after a nice strong bong hit...well that's magic. If you drink it too fast you bloat; too slow it gets warm. Warm beer when you're high is even nastier than warm beer when you're....not high.
Some daaaay, some waaaay
Oh my fucking god! Waaaaaay! (am I too loud? Shhhh) I close my eyes and see the universe.
We'll find a new way of living
Crying. Can't stop.
We'll find a way of forgiving
Can't.
There's a place for us, a time and a place for us
Can't stop. Face in pillow through the sobs. (am I too loud?)
[silence]
Yank out the secret stash of homo porn and the bottle of poppers. Used to prefer the stories to the pictures, but the weed and the tears making reading too much work. But my cock is so sensitive when I'm stoned, so it doesn't take more than a couple of tugs and one good snort.
