The Shit of Adim Witt

What am I doing w/my high,
This night?
Whistling like a missile,
Sparking in my tissue, this high.
Starbursts surround me,
Heartbeat is pounding, this high.
Hot, this high…
Scorching and bright…
I might die from this high,
Tonight.

But if I don’t,
I’ll have a little something to write.