Two bowls of dead leaves,
Harvested from still living vines,
Sit on the table.
I haven’t thrown them out
Because I am considering grinding them up
And making tea,
So I can taste what it feels like
To wilt and die
Even when clearly being sustained by veins and arteries
Full of life.
*** You’re having a rough morning, and want everyone to know, aren’t ya, Sweetums? Relax. That’s what drugs are for. ***
*** Sometimes I am ungrateful and full of angst. I am an entitled little shit. Always when I bleed does all of the hell come out with the crimson screaming. I need no pity, just marijuana. ***
*** Also, I was literally pruning one of my plants that was full of dead leaves buried under the living ones. I normally suck at taking care of plants, but I couldn’t stand the sight of them any more. So I picked them off… then poeming happened. ***