What are thoughts?
Where do they come from, and how do they relate to our feelings?
Do bushes change their digestion based on our hate?
Why do I feel a guttoral sinking into myself when left to just my thoughts for more than 5 minutes?
Why do I have to climb out of it to get going, to pick up my laundry?
Am I meant for anything more than rife utility?
What’s the purpose of being biological?
Is having fun useful? Do we deserve it?
Sometimes I just want to be observational, but my stomach takes over.
There’s something deeper going on.
I haven’t eaten yet. It’s noon. I’ve had 2 coffees.
I should take half a 5 mg THC gummy tonight.