one hundred-six.

baby boom.

addict.

sniffed it.

spliffed it.

addicted.

higher than a planet

hanging in the stratosphere, she hung

higher than the stratosphere hung in its own space.

she was strung.

she was a crack addict that cracked a bad habit
open and now her body's exposin' places that
God has been holdin' closely. for years.
now the coke is wrapped up in her tears.

got used for 7 minutes to escape herself while

entering a drug sell. she hit a climax and didn't

want to fall down - no, she didn't want him to

calm down or come down or cool down.

9 months later she's wailing in labor on the day of labor

birthing a baby on white sheets, you could feel her scream

and you could hear her bleed rivers of blood that came

from her addiction buried underneath her verbal diction.

she held her baby underneath her bosom and rocked him slowly.

told him a story and stuffed him in a bag, tied it, and left it at the
door of the most Holy.
whispered underneath her dusty breath that she could not let go of this.

she was referring to her addiction.
she gave away a life to be lifted

with the same clouds of smoke

that kept her addicted.