I really hope your wrist is feeling better because that’s just the kind of pain that shouldn’t be experienced. And poetry is just experience painted in edgy words so stay safe beautiful and maybe get in my bed *lifts covers seductively* there’s iced coffee and sock monkeys for anyone who gets in here.
Sober and back from school and I just took in how many poems I wrote last night. That must be a Poetry Night record and I can’t even understand half of them. I feel like I could spend a really long time trying to interpret some of the hidden meaning in those lines but i’m too lazy for that shit. I’m also too excited for the acid & shrooms tomorrow to do any of my assignments (I am going to fail my classes horribly and not make the grades for college, let alone university, yet I seem to have lost my fucks to give in a savage storm off the West Coast).
My friend/drug dealer texted me and the plans are a go! I’m really hoping this works out b/c most stoner plans don’t so please pray for me darlings, pray to the drug gods that her supplier doesn’t get hit by a car or reach slow as hell. God the anxiety is a bitch, but I am so looking forward to this; and all the shitty poetry it will bring.