i don’t like my writing as of late. it’s just getting mediocre and repetitive and i need...

i don’t like my writing as of late. it’s just getting mediocre and repetitive and i need some inspiration. i need touch. i need to smoke a joint underneath the moon and i need to finally meet her. i feel drained. i know my words will find their way to me but i don’t want to force them. they deserve to take their time. they’ve done so much for me and the least i could do for them is give them my patience. it’s a phase. it’s all a phase. everything we do and will do. it’s all a phase. but you weren’t a phase for me but sometimes i think i was just an experiment to you. i’m not sad anymore. not even slightly. i am so happy and i think happiness turns my words into little bugs with big wings and makes them fly away from me until they think its time to come back and aid to me. but i want them to stay with me and i want us to work it all out with each other. i want kisses, cigarettes, and time. i want lots and lots of time.