I love Drake

stream of consciousness contemplation on meds, the train, and hot girls

Everytime I have to cross paths with the Lorimer L stop I’m reminded of the threesome I had as a freshly nineteen year old in an airbnb on Metropolitan ave where the other guest slammed on the walls to quiet our giggles and moans, we smoked parliaments on the roof, Gabby broke the shower and I now have a matching tattoo from that threesome, reminiscing actually brings me immense comfort as I am able to lock hands with her and remember I am a person carrying the weight of twenty three years and not the two months that I have lived in Bushwick, or singularly the four years I spent in San Francisco, the matching tattoos do not make me groan with resentment because I cannot remember a lot of things in my older age and it serves as reminder of the reality of that escapade after the sweat and cum and laughter dissipates, so I guess me and the guy from Memento have a lot more in common than I ever expected and the person with the matching skeleton tattoo now has a baby and I met him the other day and I was awed at the creation of life although this is something i would never dream my womb to carry

I wonder why the Wilson L washes me over with comfort when it’s not my stop, and I live over a thirty minute walk away from it but I suppose the stench of 2022 and polyamory is lingering around the turnstile and I am mistaking it for sweetness, I am so far from that twenty year old self but I count gratitudes on each finger to the reminders of disenchantment and I flirt with nativity, and how silly it is now that I get entertain this flirtationship every time I go to see any of my many close friends who now live off this stop, and subsequently a girl I spend hot nights with,  

I’ve been keeping my last pair of contacts in water every night so I know this cannot be good for my vision or lack of insurance and lately I wake up with a dread that my 50mg of zoloft typically helps me avoid entirley, but I cannot remember if I have taken my meds and it’s a double edged sword again for my lack of insurance and I cannot fathom reckoning further with dread bubbling up my throat as I clean out the blackberry confit from a plastic container and I pierce the silver lining that my 50mg zoloft still allows me to climax and sometimes even perform this act in the presence of beautiful women who have graduated from prestigious New York City  universities and today I want to choose to believe I’ve swallowed the teeny tiny blueish green pill because the rain is inviting romance and comfort and I am swallowed up by my canopy against my window pane and the comfort in the central cooling of my apartment and lack of windows in our common space is providing a remedy that brings me so close to god and I came close to that encounter again later this evening when I orgasmed from the hand of a beautiful woman and this is all parelleing the fact that the guy at the bodega knows my smoothie order: my only supplementation of vegetables lately that are counteracting the drinking I have done every night this past week because two of my sweetest friends were visiting and you could even say we were drinking every night because we drink to our accomplishments.