Razor lies on the bed.
We haven’t touched each other in a year.
I’m doing my best.
To love her.
We’ve been through so much.
Yet I don’t really know her.
She doesn’t know me.
My mum didn’t know me, either.
Razor pokes the straws through the blue plastic water bottle top.
Screws the top on the bottle.
Tests it, sucking through one straw.
Tests it to make sure its air tight.
No smoke can escape.
She pushes the glass pipe onto the straw.
Flicks the customized small lighter into flame.
Holds the flame under the glass.
Blows out the thick white smoke.
Clouds of pain.
In the clouds
Where the Angels sing
In your eyes
Where I wanna be…