A fading Summer, September walk through a pine forest, sun setting, needles crunching underfoot. Find your spot on the grassy knoll, gulp back the lilt and take a big hit on the bong.
Crashing through your nut with a lemon haze. Slipping down in a crisp, refreshing sparkle. Hair tousled, straw strewn and body glistening you get up. Then comes the bitterness but, don’t worry, in a good way.
In thought, staring into the embers. Smoking, bourbon, breaking chocolate and sucking treacle toffee. In your head: dancing in the coals, getting oily. Deep.