The Question Is, Why Dont You?

Perhaps its because when I was in psychology class and the teacher asked what makes your brain tick and I replied hands. The reply stirred every ones brains. Massaging and awakening the senses to poetic and deeper meaning. Thoughts normal minds couldn't create or picture if it weren't for a hazy muse..

Likely my reasoning was altered when he threw me to the bowels of pain and took the pieces of my heart with him. Slow songs didn't bother me and "Our" songs became just mine again. The original CD player spinning One album at a time and I was content with just my mix playing..

Maybe its because when E. Badu told me to Bump It and I turned the volume up to 45 I felt my voice singing her words, my movements enticing the crowd, my actions interacting with my fans, my heart beating with the sound. In that moment I was unknown mainstream and the feeling felt great even alone..

Of course it could be because the night we got lost in a city we knew, I didn't mind. Going in circles, enter twining brain waves, and matching laughter took the hands of clocks and we rode in our own timeless moments. None of it intentional just how green sixtuplets made siblings out of us..

Perchance its how I, Lucky, Captain Crunch, Tony The Tiger, Trix, Snap, Crackle, and Pop all become best friends. Milk being the drug of our choice and it heavenly filled our bowls. Our bond was hunger and were out to get full together..

Possibly it was when those lips touched my lips and caused my hips to dip and contract my back in tension that felt so electric I felt a explosion in my loins. Causing breathlessness like a compound sentence with no comma, seemingly endless no period..

what can i say?

it just feels good to Fade.

gwen.

Picasso ?

what would you say if I told you that art can be found anywhere? In anything? That the things some people would frown down and sneer at could be a art?

Like what? Like rolling a blunt.

Yea you read correctly. Rolling a blunt. The expertise it takes to fill a swisher with your choice of fixings and roll it up with no loose ends or unnecessary saliva.

Easy. You think?

There's something about sitting there easily breaking down your weed, gutting, wetting and filling the swisher that can easily intimidate a regular person. How do I get the weed inside? How do I re-roll it? How do I get it to stick? The need to create a clean finish so that the lungs can easily welcome the filtered smoke. The personal way of holding your hands that folds the contents into a single bar. The simple feeling of pride when its done while those around you appreciate it for just what it is. Among the many trys to accomplish this task and unsuccessfully achieving the goal one can get frustrated and sloppy. Possible swisher ripping from it being too wet and a inability to keep a steady hand.

Have you ever seen someone roll a blunt, figured you could do it and ran into this problem? Then you know sometimes it takes a artist.

pennanddpaperr.