Thursday, April 06, 2017

Mama, worry

Im a few days late with my medication.
I feel a difference.
The war between SEGA and Nintendo is more than my sober eye can take.
However, this is the same excuse I used for using hard drugs.
I don't want to be trapped by drugs.
And my mom isn't here, so I can't just hide at her place and sober up.
If I relapse now, my sensitive grandmother and hard-ass uncle ARE GOING TO SEE IT.

I don't want to break their heart.

If I'm right about heroin (being in everything), I may be the most celebrated legal junkie ever.
If I'm wrong, it wouldn't matter because I'm fighting the medication.

I don't want to die.

I mean, I want to die, but only because there's a chance I'll be missed.
I'm tired of going through my phone to find random people (male or female) to talk to.
I want to be wanted.
I want to be loved.
I NEED to be loved.

I did nothing wrong to you, humans...

Why did you betray me?

A question, unanswered, yet discussed on

The Socratic Doomer

New York, pardon my fear.
I can't control it.
I'm the *it* I can't control.
I'm hungry, too.
I just wanna make music with a plate of chili nachos in the recording hub.

And smoke a blunt.

Weed heads, DOOM is real.
Be careful who you smoke with.
Who you trust when you're high.
It's so real, you can taste the metal.

Taste it.

It's either DOOM or Silver.

And Silver is SEGA.

Right, bitch?RIGHT, BITCH?!

I need my meds.

Soon come, bredren!


~follow the buzzards~

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