Guys that work at weed dispensaries are like “No bro I swear it’s not gonna feel like you’ve been wrapped with bandages and locked in a sarcophagus for 2 thousand years” meanwhile the strain is named The Mummy’s Curse Comes True
the pigeon doesn’t understand your disdain for it; it coos for you anyway. the tree does not know you own an axe for it; its leaves sway in the sun anyway. the starving cat eats the poison you put out. it doesn’t know how not to trust. the earth forgives you, in spite of yourself
being a high functioning stoner is WILD because I’m not trying to “escape reality” - I simply want to soften the sharp edges of existing inside a brain that never stops fucking thinking.