untitled
Distortion by Azriel Johnson
He's cutting smoky swaths
thru a sea of incense.
Everything is distorted.
His perception is altered,
affected by the toxicity of cannabis,
and the thick, foglike,
opium-scented smoke.
Everywhere in the room is hazy.
The windows are closed.
The shades are drawn.
Two lights, one in each corner.
A black light that glows violet
fights with the standard color white.
He finds no pretense in this sanctuary,
only smoke and distortion.
He dances to music only he can hear,
he breathes in the scents that
he dare not release into the world.
He shuts off the white light
and basks in the ultraviolet.
His eyes reflect a bar across
his corneas inhibiting him further,
distorting him further,
He's quickly becoming exhausted.
The dancing, the smoke in his lungs,
the distortion affecting him.
He looks to the floor and can see
the shiny white sheet
reflecting from the black light.
He collapses on the floor.
Pulling the sheet over him,
only his toes protrude out.
He speaks softly,
'I pull this sheet over my head,
and give myself up for dead.'
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