a seashell covered in moss

 Thirteen hits of weed and my minds lost in space
Words float away from my mouth 
 Empty and stale like an opened bag of chips
  Art will help
 but I end up drawing a huge flower with octopus vines
"Fuckin' stoner", I tell myself
The girl next to me is learning Chinese
I can't even produce a full sentence in English

Adam and I on my rooftop last summer
notice our eyes

oh dear.

No comments:

Post a Comment