The Art of Peer Pressure bumps through the speakers

Causing the bass to rattle our bones.

The sun's gone down and the road

We drive on is pitch black;

Not a single streetlight illuminated the hardened street tar.

The sweet green leaf is crumbled into fine ground up shake.

Guts of the chemically produced tobacco leaf are dumbed out the window

To never be used again.

Packed and finally rolled,

The car soon fills with a cloud so thick

Our driver can barely see

The road.

Lights out.

The car pulls into a dirt path across from

The abandoned mill.

A broken chain link fence has a “No Trespassing” sign

Propped up against it.

Four of our bodies slip through. Broken glass cracks

Underneath our shoes.

The marble in the paint can rattles around as it’s shaken.

Black paint shoots from the tip and stains the stone wall.

Taking long hits, the smoke lingers in my lungs.

The spray can is empty and is tossed onto the Mill’s roof.

Red and blue lights flash and can be see from

The road.

Book it.

Blunt falls. Feet carry us into the dark forest;

Reminding me of something out of a horror movie.

Twigs snap and dead leaves rustle.

I know this trail.

I had prepared for moments like this.

I lead my band of hooligans through the dark and into the arms of safety.

Crouching in the bushes like a hunted animal,

Hoping the hunters are lazy pigs

Who know not to enter the dark forest.

The road.

It’s right there.

Lights flash upon the tall walls of the mill, searching for a break in.

The boys in blue climb in through an opening that we had made.

As soon as the two enter the dark halls of the mill,

We emerge like hidden warriors from the brush.

Sneaking in the shadows, I hear them.

They don’t hear us.

They are loud and intimidating, trying to strike fear into our hearts.

Instead of arresting a bunch of shitheads,

The shitheads walk upon a warped wooden floor,

Risking their own lives for nothing,

Not even knowing the ones they seek are sprinting back to the car

They stopped for.

Our feet run across

The road.

The passenger seat window was down;

grabbing the roof of the car with my hands,

I lift my legs in and slide the rest of my body into the seat.

The engine roars to life and the car backs up.

The tires fling dirt onto the car flashing red and blue lights.

We sped down the road.

We got lucky and escaped the binds of police issued handcuffs.