Pot Helps pt. 33

I sip on wine and I chug on beer,
I puff on weed and I nibble on ears,
your ears.
Hear me dear?
Hear me coming am I coming through clear?
The shit we say and the bullshit we hear.
Oh dear,
looking at me like I was made entirely from negative fear.
Backing up your rear,
hearing the roars of tomorrow.
So much sorrow,
as we live we borrow
a
little more.
Hearing you like I wasn't lying I swear I was just trying not to snore.
I mine for life like death was my most prized ore,
and all I need is just a little more,
just a little more,
just a little more;
the sweetest of all sap.
Inside of my closed eyelids like time slows down and I’m just taking a cosmic nap.
I live in your lap.
I live in finger-plucked chords and the white noise of the ceiling fan.
I live within catacombs I built in my head and it’s about as dark as I can.
Because I can.
I can.