as i grow my skin gets tougher i stop fitting in to the molds of society they stop feeling so permanent and all being i stop trying to be someone im not i stop trying to feel things i don't i just live my life with the intention of feeling good and giving back to the world. i think about how getting high makes life a perfect match of person and every single things comes down to timing and the gravitational pull of the axis of the air of the universe asking for its energy back. and i don't even want to think that much about it i just want to recognize the color of your shirt and let my skin tingle in the familiar way it does and as i've learned to do so. would less be more? is more less? if this all i can ever hope of becoming? I can offer so many sides of myself, it's all I know how to do or be; selfless, a service for others. you can talk and talk and i'll store and store and the fact is that your stories are limbless, they are speachless, they are gasping for air. and those stories you have, way down there in the depth, they choke you like a rotten egg you eat whole. and all you need from these rotten eggs are breaths of fresh air, something to show you sunlight, the way it could and can be. the opposite of the bottom. your teeth rattle, like you haven't worn you retainer since 7th grade and you're going to the dentist a week from friday. life happens before you prepare. life happens after you prepare. you juggle so many things, you motivate yourself by money, you go to the wrong class, YOU FIND SOMEONE WHO LIKES YOU FOR YOU, and those people that forget themselves are common but the same people who forget their worth are scared and lonely.