Smoking one in my garage

by (Linda) Leavers   Aug 26, 2019


I feel most people live in a constant state of unreality.
It’s a daily mannerism to be mildly dishonest with oneself,
but like...
bruh.

Why are you smiling and saying “fine” when you literally had cervical cancer two months ago, had your uterus removed, and you’re having a hot flash in this very moment

while your throat burns.

Lies like hellfire in your neck,
that feeling where you swallowed a baseball
because you don’t wanna cry
but you don’t want somebody’s sympathy,
yet you’re being literally dishonest to yourself.

And that b—-h over there fakes her orgasms
for the sake of another person’s ego.

This one pretends she’s not in love with the man
she opens her body for
and it’s just friends with benefits.
Even though he broke her heart open
and makes her feel

wide awake.

You pretend you’re justified in being unreasonable,
or unconscious of your personal toxicity,

fabricating up some “reason” for it,
some weak justification that you TELL YOURSELF
is like mad strong, totally okay.

I wish people could shed their skin.

I don’t want to see all this and then people pretend they don’t know what I’m talking about.

Money is worthless.
Period.

War is worthless and it’s only for people who have no understanding of who we are,
why we are,
what we are.

Money is worthless.

Is spiritual liberation actually freedom if you realize everyone around you is imprisoned?

0


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments