The Haunting’s of Mary-Jane

The walls are bleeding pretty patterns,

As he floats upon a wistful cloud,

Those thoughts, becoming scattered,

His eyelids,

Falling like a shroud.

~

Oh, no!

~
“Did I just smoke too much?”,

~

He believed, his limits exceeded,

Using this vegetable for a crutch.

He has probably 60 minutes,

Until he’s sober enough to budge.

~

He naps.

~

Time lapse

~

Awakens with a hunger sensation,

Still in the midst of heavy sedation.

Yet, far too high for food’s creation.

~

That house is but a mountain,

That kitchen is his summit.

If he can’t manage to reach it soon,

To his death, he’ll surely plummet.

~

How could he survive,

With his body so deprived?

His heart is racing

~

He’s sure he’ll die

~

Yet, Alas!

T’was time to lift those tired legs,

And get up off his ass!

~

He stumbled his way to the food he’d sought,

And scoured the cupboards from inside.

Cupboards laid bare by a deficit of groceries bought,

He can feel his heart and gut divide.

~

He’d never been one to throw up white flags,

So, he managed himself a sandwich.

~

Every bite, came with silent gags.

~

He’s not sure if he’ll be leaving,

From outside a body-bag.

~

T’was of mayo, pickles, jam.

It didn’t taste as good as planned.

So, he topped it off with ham.

He wasn’t sure why he used the jam.

~

Like any hungry man of action,

He thought to eat it all,

But ate a fraction.

~

He wasn’t sure why he used the jam,

~

And now, there’s no more ham.

~

Eating his ham-jam sandwich in bed,

He’s overwhelmed with dread,

And thoughts,

And why do cows have such big heads?

~

He tries to sleep, despite his inner prattle –

Over the physics of common dairy cattle.

~
As beads of sweat roll down his cheeks,

He drifts off to rhythmic heartbeats,

But, he’s distracted by his pulse instead.

~

He’s pretty sure he’ll wind up dead!

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