weed makes it so much easier to think you're worth something.
that you're worth the seven dollars spent on that one bowl and borrowed pipe.
you spit out philosophy and dorito crumbs like they're the most genius things that've ever come out of anyone's mouth, because it's so damn easy to feel like you've got something to say.
you state that glow sticks are reality and that everyone should hold one in the hollow of their necks to make sure they don't get lost in the flashes. so they don't flicker and flash and everyone will be able to keep track of everyone. but, since when is keeping track of anything a good thing?
you pat my knee and your fingertips don't float they crash.
i say, you can't keep track of everything, damnit. break all the glowsticks in the world and throw them against the stars, because you just can't keep track of everything. make sure that the stars are painted pink and green and electric blue, because if they aren't, someone is being seen, somewhere. there is a person somewhere hoarding a solar yellow glowstick and i can see them and i shouldn't be able to. steal the hollows of our necks and throw them into the sun.
you say, we need more doritos.