My grandma is talking about how we need to open a dispensary that makes marijuana Christmas trees and you just smoke it when Christmas is over lmaooo omg my family.

I’ll look at you, fragile with a racing heart and the illusion of confidence, and ask “So does it feel like space or does it feel like a void?”

Maybe
The reason we have to leave the TV on to to fall asleep
Is so we can pretend another voice isn’t really missing.

I just adore immersion
And subtleties that can only be seen with my skin
Fossilized facets only I have been able to unearth
It’s not about my ego, it’s about this earth shattering discovery
It’s how I get to caress the soil off this most valued gem I selfishly keep

But it’s strange for me
I can’t help but feel a soul ache just around the bend
Some stray negativities telling me it must happen, it’s too good to be true
That im delighting in life in this way I never have
To indulge in your flesh
And drink in your flaws until im intoxicated with your deviations
Every thread of these sheets are intricately stained with the seemingly infinite sighs and whispers and promises we have spoken beneath them
The walls do speak of interlaced energies and mars resurrecting a capricorn if you know how to listen

It’s strange for me to believe that you wake up behind such beautifully shattered stained glass windows and peek at me with love each morning.