the days of pink skies and velvet grass are behind me
i no longer crave validation from the sun and seek silence from the sky
rain bullets and leafy horns have become my mother and father, nourishing me in ways mine never could
or would for that matter
i tried to sleep on warm pillows and drink passionately sugar less chai but the voicemails of insouciance are so sweet and seductive
my roots grew back and i became malificant like
i smoke unironically and i devise stories to make my therapist jealous
some would say my frivolous life is disturbing however i think of it extremely arousing
arousing enough to make cry in lana del ray way but stop when i realise my capitalistic tears have run out
it's an endless cycle of regret and shame however during it i have the best sex
