Bhang Hallucinations

Antigraviti. I’m walking on the moon. The ground below me isn’t on Earth anymore. A strong force is pulling upward in my thighs, arms, wrist, the sides of my forehead, at each place, gentle hands are pulling my body upward. Skyward. Up. What is such a word? Gravity. But that’s down below. So its obverse, antigraviti then. And now, my bones have abdicated the soul. The crackle at each wall, corner, door and I swivel my way through. now my pen can’t go up the page. Ok. I can’t hold my hand down. The hands are firmer now. Only on muscles. No bones.

I reach for my phone. Now the force is to the left. I’m being held back in a comfortable prison of comfort. Whatever I do, a force shifts thatward.

Stairway to Heaven

The roof lay strewn with
The remnants of forbidden pleasure,
Dark was the field out in front,
Dark with people, or phantoms were they?

The night, blurring the city for once
Humming a melody of whispers,
I look to the sky, and then to you
And wonder

A star, is that faraway?
Or a dot hanging in the in-between?