Now,
I'll try to promise not to hold onto this forever,
but love syndrome and stormy weather always make the story better.
Haha,
no, I wasn't trying to be clever.
Because weather or not you realize it,
this is not some punch drunk letter of affection or a,
cry for attention.
I just thought that I should mention, this obvious sexual tension.
This should be considered a type of prevention,
cause both know how the game goes,
it ain't all butterflies and rainbows.
Tight grips on plain bowls, chiefing on that fragrant green, dreaming of gold, shifting into the scenes,
the way we scuff up our favorite memories like they're petty things all for some herbal remedies,
release.
It's some type of...
---
FUCK THIS NOISE!
Holy macaroni,
decorated portrait of a homie,
next to a sewn wreath of, goodness fucking me.
Sorry that was fantasy.
Just trying to provoke insanity.
If you think you're mad at me,
the pack your shit up and leave!
SHIT,
it's been way too long but feels like I've been on this forever.
Been a decent year being two birds of a feather.
Tethered,
weathered beyond recognition.
New car, broken ignition.
Bright star too hard on the vision.
Velcro to linen,
silent yet deadly in the art of winnin'.
Pinning down your panic attack patterns up on the ceilin',
wheelin' and dealin'.
Why did I say it?
Just cause I could.
And if I could've relayed it kindly,
I probably would.
Got all hood on you for a second there.
Sorry everyone,
I just needed a breath of fresh air.
