Sometimes when I'm in a bind, I seek to find, the answers to my grind, it is the green that cures my brain that's blind.
And when I'm challenged by the world, I grab a blanket for a curl, or sit by my plants for a whirl and smoke the best bud grown by a girl.
Task by task, wishing I could drink from my monogram flask, to get me through this time like a flash, in one blink, I decided to go for my stash, instead of getting trashed.
With a patch over my third eye, I could just sit here and cry, but I will not roll over and die, I will shine through the shadows that lie.
Not a quitter, I am, not a weakling, I am, not a coward, I am, not a liar, I am, not one to hurt the wings of a butterfly, I am.
There is hope and inspiration, liberation of my cultivation will be preservation from my demention, in all directions, if I could avoid these distractions there wouldn't be subtractions.
I'm just one woman, a story woven, an empty casket, a basket I've chosen, filled with my life's emotions, a survivor of cognitive oceans, waves and caves, freedom that stays, because my heart never changes, it's just the hamsters in my brain rattling the cages.
Nothing wrong with me as a person at a glance, just a complex PTSD imbalance, just a brain trance, just a shizzy circumstance, interrupting my book writing dance...ing with dementia, don't let it BE yah!
Much love and poetry passion to all... taking risks to save my life ... talk soon.