FirE Horse

Hi Sluts.
And all the rest, good morning.
It’s 12:17 AM, PDT. I’m a bottle of wine in. Two joints deep.
I looked at it all and put it all on the table and separated it- like one does a puzzle.
Wood Rabbit. Hmmph. David Beckham. Shit. Okay.
And there were some glaring symbols. Runes even. Sigils. Whew.
I can see in three directions.
The horse galloping through has cost me 32000 bucks in just a few days and if you think I’m finna panic, plot twist.
I always have been able to but needing to eat every day, stunts. Hunger creates savages.
The darkness has never been and will never be the enemy.
Growth, happens underneath. Below the surface. In the unknown. In the dark.
She’s too clever to have never and yet and yet and yet
I’m so fully fucking grown that even mentioning it feels childish.
Already seen it already done it doing it again reclaiming the villain…
Gratitude is just Vick’s ointment on an exposed neck.
Death is rooting for us and life is worried for us.
And we, persist.
We exist.
We happily and unhappily enlist.
We live.
If my fuck ups defined me you’d see a straight line. It’s there.
We are odd, I am odd, we need odd, we love to have odd, we are, odd to ourselves, we hate us and I hate me and we are weak and we are growing and all this darkness has no outcome but light. Its just light in the shade.
I looked at it all and put it all on the table and color coded it- like one does a spreadsheet.
Scorpio Rising. Waxing Crescent kid. Stacked against. Fuck. I see.
And there were some formulas I couldn’t keep using. Marcos even. Layers. Damn.
I can feel in all the hemispheres.
The horse galloping is no different than the one I saw prancing through the streets while talking about my massive vehicle repair bill to the Uber driver who let me know it wasn’t his job, and he has 3 cars and owns three homes and he’s a Gemini and what is that in the Chinese Lunar Calendar…
I always have been able to manifest but breathing over and over, weakens. Intelligence creates hunger.
The light is only a direction and has never been the objective.
Sacrifice is freely given or freely rejected. Below the surface. In the unknown. In the dark.
She’s too clever to have never and yet and yet and yet
I’m so done with dancing without wanting to dance and dancing anyway that I can’t help but dance.
Nothing is new and nothing is inherently right and the wrong remains right side up…
Reflection is just the smile after rewinding the tape.
Life is naked in front of us and death rolls her eyes.
And we insist.
We smell bliss.
We happily and unhappily forget.
We die.
If our fuck ups defined us you’d see a straight line. A super gay one.
Bye, Sluts.