The first time I put my lips to a crack pipe…
Whoever would’ve thought I’d indulge in that life?
Mover Man Chris showed me how to smoke it,
Inhale.  Inhale.  Now, hold it!
I held it… until I had to release it.
Cloud 9, no longer a cliché,
For I had reached it.
I learned the tricks
Of the trade,
Never cared how the crack came!
If you use a glass pipe,
Be sure to know how to work the flame!
Glass was the best,
Better than the rest.
White smoke, thick,
Tryna get it all,
Get it all,
My life depended on that toke.
But, damn it!
I always used too much flame!
Had to resort to the tire gauge,
Fell in love with the sound it made
When the fire hit the rock,
That snap, crackle, pop!
Rock after rock after rock,
On and on and on,
Till the crack was all gone!
Whole cigarettes burned out,
Forgot they were on.
Then comes the push,
Heat it, push it, cool it, hit it.
Repeat.
Then comes the voice
Dog, you ain’t stopped yet?
Naw… not yet.
The next stage is no fun!
Down to the floor,
Looking for crumbs.
On hands and knees,
Straight trippin’!
No dope to be found,
Only paint chippins.
And when you finish,
There’s a feeling of resolve,
Knowing and accepting
That the dopes all gone.
I light another cigarette,
Look out the window,
And know that this come down
Will be Hell!
I learned all of this
At the age of Twelve!

ABOUT THE WRITER. Jarod Wesenberg is new to WITS, but as with all the writers here, he is now part of our family. This is exactly what we are looking for. Not every story here is pretty, and to honestly share experiences of all kinds through writing is what we are. Jarod can be contacted at:

Jarod L. Wesenberg, Sr. #1830643
Michael Unit
2664 FM 2054
Tennessee Colony, TX 75886