[supersmoke]

Shattered panes of crackle glass
crumbling column, porous mass.
Cartilage worn paper thin and
torn by devil's hand.
Pain upon rising.
Pain upon lying.
Agony in between.
Round pills to float.
Long pills to fade away.
Oblivion brings no peace
only temporary surcease
Tumbling moaning sleep
bringing visions and mares
Management is my new four letter word
Words like cure and solution
are empty placebo
Then light shines in
A friend bearing a small green gift
Taught to care for her like my child
growing tall but not wild
Her bounty brings a soft cushion
of mellow ease
Pain fades
Muscles unclench
agony relents
Sleep at last
like years ago
when I was well
Morning comes and with it
the certain knowledge of
those who would take it away
For what?
more pills?
more pain?
They walk upon my shattered panes of crackle glass.


I have degenerative disc disease and a crippling form of arthritis. Every day starts and ends in pain. Some days less, some days more. I will never get better, but I can slow the worsening with care. There is no cure, but in their pity, they will load me up with enough narcotic drugs like vicodin, oxycotin, and soma to keep a neighborhood high. The muscle spasms alone can bring me to the ground in a weeping mass. How pitiful is a man who once was an athlete lying on the floor crying from pain.
My weed keeps me functional and off the pills that turn me into the living dead. It will never harm me nor endanger me with physical addiction. It will never drive me to murder or steal or hurt a loved one. Yet there are those who would take thisaway from me. From all of us. they will never be convinced. They will never be able to see our truth through the tinted goggles of hate they choose to wear. What are we to do?
I choose to overgrow. I choose to grow until every person has as much as they need. I choose to grow until the stench of it fills the world. What about you?

Supersmoke