A Smokers Delima Poem by Dennis Fausz

A cream colored blip melted in a glass tube.
A broken bic pen inhaling its precious poisonous fumes.
All my anxieties swirl away, as I stare into a bright orange and dull blue flame.

All of a sudden I know what to do.
A dozen choices and I know which one to choose.
No more depression, No more blues.
A couple more hits…..on my way to you--

Dried up so quickly and gone so fast a bunch of black burnt spots against the frosted glass- now it's hard to believe three days have passed.
My only dilemma's this bowl is cashed.

Everyone stares with greedy eyes.
Expecting me to feed their high, eyeing my bag with nonchalant hope everyone needs their pipe filled with dope.