Drifting

A place so damp and cold, 

with trees withered and old. 

The sky perpetually gray, 

but sometimes I can escape. 

A deep inhale from a pipe made of crystal, 

a melody that I almost can whistle, 

plays softly in the background of a land with color. 

A mellow place yet oh so vibrant, 

from nature an herb to fuel me just a bit longer. 

But I wish the feeling would stay forever, 

As I fall back to Earth I land so hard. 

Back in that gray place I hate so much, 

I drag my feet feeling number. 

So this time I chew a little, 

The rush of this destroys me a little. 

But the colors are back and so vivid, 

I am spinning out of control and suddenly I am drifting. 

I don't wanna come down, 

I think I am becoming addicted and the sensation is winning. 

I think I just want to keep drifting.