Sunday, May 6, 2012

Views of Pot

One of the most critical issues I brood over while rolling my joint, is to where my eyes would be gazing during the whole of my reflections with each puff I grasp...


Taking into account that I commenced smoking from within dark allies of unsecured corners, at times to feel secured from a chunk of fuzz, and other times in the shades and snugness of a clunker, eyes wary to both its sides, passing joints like documents beneath tables, giggling away whilst passersby us unsuspecting. Even at home, crawling like a snail on ceilings, dodging the hassle in a shell of considered lies, against family and chums. For all I knew,  a bit of them take turns in snitching, I can't even bewilder if my parents handed me over, to a dungeon burdened with products of our system...


Years passed by, appearances and locations alter, there was no need to bustle, living within cities of no culture, smoking a joint would be considered self-murder. Still, I corner my hidden comfort, while silence creep into my soul, no one to know, no one to wonder.

Flashing back, I never been aware to the line of reasoning why I was a pothead wander; reactions on actions, strict cultures, with piles of tradition, work and relations, I can go on and on, with accusations and justifications, but one thing's for sure, I always wondered!

At the time, I never stumbled upon any magical paths of enlightenment, nor could I spend hours of introspection, not just yet, but I just felt fitter and finer about almost everything and anything, considerable, hard working, adopting balanced ethics, I gain new knowledge, experiences, naturally reflecting on my behaviors. After all, ITS ALL NATURAL, isn't it!



          

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