Pot Luck: What It's Like To Turn Yourself Off By Turning On With Drugs - Pacific Press - 1970
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Pot Luck: What It's Like To Turn Yourself Off By Turning On With Drugs - Pacific Press - 1970
I just need a little trash TV
Most days tbh
Me when someone says:
“You ain’t graduated yet?!”
“How are things going with your bae?”
“Stop messing around! Time to grow up.”
Guy
Sometimes we want to be unseen;
To be part of the background,
Just another face in the crowd.
We want to relax from presenting,
Give over the reacting,
And just be some guy, any guy.
It doesn't matter our goals,
We need to relax, destress,
Or just get the mundane tasks done,
Out of view, there's chores to do,
Activities dull to watch or see,
That we avoid pretending to be free.
Spy
I don't want to see details,
We get hung up on them,
Or watch everyone carefully,
That's not something there to do.
I wouldn't make a decent spy,
Too hung up watching the sky,
Or wondering at the wildlife
To pay attention to human strife.
Perhaps it's a bubble, a pretend world
To see past the common herd,
To ignore the news breaking my heart;
I think it's exhaustion making a start.
I cannot care for every tragedy,
Or internalise all that pain and fear
So birdsong is my choice to hear.