Make peace with never knowing,
make peace with never going,
to the places, you pledged your life to.
There is plant on the patio that overgrows itself every once in awhile and dies.
Beautiful flowers, but far too many.
Over-growing without thinking about the consequences.
Four million or so flowers blooming all at once and one little porcelain *** to hold them all.
It came naturally.
I fear I've made a history of myself.
All the paperwork is blowing in the wind.
Don't look at all my personal transactions.
Don't look at the mess I've made of my short life.
I've thought twice about the whole lot of it.
I've made amendments to every one of my thoughts and I don't trade in them anymore.
I've made memories I wish expunged from the record of existence.
Sometimes I wonder why you love me.
I used to think it was my own selfishness begging the question forward.
But today I wonder because when I get on a roll
(and I do, often)
I can start seeing the impatience develop in the corners of your eye.
I don't know if it's always been,
or if just now it's become obvious to me,
but I can see it beginning to irritate you.
All my highfalutin recitations of my latest reading.
All of my internal cross-examination.
All of the stones I turn over and over in my hand - at you.
It's getting a bit much.
But you see I'm just too chock-full of existence
and you are the only vessel to pour it into.
I crave novelty and I can see that you,
You've watched the world worry over itself for long enough and you want to rest.
I never let you rest.
So then comes the questions again,
why is it you love me?
I am so restless and so curious and so mean.
Sometimes you wake up and your plans for the week have burned down.
You find the owners of the buildings got into a fistfight,
blaming each other for its destruction and were arrested.
I guess that means we can check it off the list of things to say goodbye to.
Time to renegotiate and go for something like that hole in the wall pizza joint with all the awards on the wall.
Time to kayak on the only part of the LA River that isn't concrete.
Yes, I can smell the gunpowder all right.
And sure, I can hear the 'pom' 'pom' in the distance of the bombs bursting in air and whatnot.
But I'm not seeing the red glare itself.
From every angle, I'm not getting any of the rainbow foofaraws as was advertised.
Instead, it's just me and the dog here.
I'm just dizzy with conflicting ideas of what being 'here' means.
Anyways, I'm too busy, tired and dispossessed of my patriotism to really give a rah-rah anywho.
I guess you can keep the fireworks.
The bills you get from an ATM located in a Headshop called the Refinery in the Valley are not going to be the same that you cash out of your local Wells Fargo.
They've been used before.
You can almost imagine the staff feeding the all-cash green you give them back into the machine (once a day when things are slow).
These are just facts.
When you say you don't want a 3:1 you want a 3:0... They show you a 3:1 anyways.
You know, the marketing system has really changed.
I get a discount for bringing in two newcomers.
My coworker keeps saying we are buying 'drugs'.
I tell her 'it's not "drugs";
even before the legislation passed, all you needed to say is that you had cancer and they would drive away ashamed for asking'.
I tell the staff I want something that will get me through the day,
nothing too crazy and I don't want to fall asleep.
I end up with a 3:1 CBD hybrid again.
I pay my 101.00 for the hybrid and a bit of gummy 50/50 Sativa and indica hybrid 'for the road'.
I remind her we have a whole department dedicated to this **** now,
she should act more professional as she selects her joints.
My other coworker gets a salve because his joints have their own problems.
Just another day with the work-family.