smoking

the magic puff.

it calms u down --
each deliberate drawl from that thin wand,
the feel of that energy coursin thru ur body
from ur mouth, down the windpipe,
then thru ur nose slowly,
makin u feel lighter, calmer,
with every conscious breath u take in
from that magic wand.

it perks u up --
each calculated movement from
hitting the end of the wand gently against the table
in an attempt to make the energiser more compact n magical
to bringing it up to ur mouth
sucking on it with just the right amount of energy
with the flick of the cheap lighter
just like saying "lumos" to the wand.

it releases that pent up energy in u --
each sharp intake of magic
that sends tiny molecules of miracles speedin
thru ur body n back up to ur mouth
sending the evil in a puff of dirty grey air particles
zoomin right outta ur body.

it stops u from feeling alone --
that simple gesture of offerin a wand
to someone who understands that magic like u do.
the sharin of the moment,
and in the process of feelin the magic work,
the sharin of other moments.

and of course,
it dirties ur lungs --
each consumption of tar, of evil, they say.
that leaves a mark of its wonder
somewhere deep inside ur body
where it took all the worries away.

and eventually,
u're no longer the same.
u've been touched by the wand --
no longer pure n frustrated,
but tainted n relieved.