Pastel ribbons of cloud unravel,
Periwinkle, tangerine, smoggy purple.
The sun bleeds through, radiant,
Golden flares across the sky.
The pungent scent of cigarettes
Wafts from the ashtray on the table,
But I still imagine I can smell the clouds,
Breathing in the intoxicating vibrance.
Their light reflects on my pores,
Sinks down into my marrow.
I am high on the heavens,
Always was, forever will be.