I used to party. Lines blue yellow white. Walked crooked sway fall dip into the closest dive. Truck drivers bikers and bass players all once loved your girl. Beaten into mental bondage by the drunk tweaker blinded by sunlight. We eat candy bars laced in lunacy. You never had to hide who you are. I am still playing peekaboo with my consciousness .
High times aka poem #5
Published by Brigitte af Transmorvica
interests include blogging personal improvement chromotherapy root work and herbal remedies shadow work talking about my past to heal and help others mental illness mental wellness pain spirituality working with our ancestors spell tutorials fashion makeup family dynamics healthy boundries discovering ones own inner beauty homelessness addiction recovery childhood wounds attatchment styles self care creative block art happiness inspiration hope depression movies music traumatic brain injury Joker and Harley Quinn love bipolar borderline coping strategies complex ptsd self harm stuffies pets little space quarentine books relationships ego View more posts
The Beatnik alchemist 