Something twisted, with twisted thoughts, on this so-called-medication.
Won't you meet me at the station, honey-bee, and Tom Petty sung that, just like psycho bitch in the hallway played Free Fallin'
Why don't you play Free Fallin' on your face
I live on the second floor, if I climb to the top I'm on the third floor; not hiiiiigh enough to inflict fatal wound from jump - maybe.
There is apparently and obviously a lot of maybe's in a life caught up in imaginary-crime (suicide is illegal), unmotivated, right who cares about the rest
Yes I smoked away my ambition AND motivation after all, it is true I smoked cannabis so substantially, that it unconsciously programmed me to uniting the world!
God damn God damn, plant.
What about the insane root, the non-Shakespeare root, and who told you you write more beautiful than Shakespeare was it the spirit? I think so. I don't remember, I think so.

< written early morning of 4/2/26 >