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Meet My best friend,
His name is Billy Blue.
He gave the gift of inspiration
to the black and blue haired.
Uninspired Bandit.
Happy Birthday calendar,
I'm twenty now.
I've got about a year or so to make this work
or else
I'm going to have to strip my way through
beauty school.
I don't want to have
to be a part time ******* either,
I'd rather keep my shirt on.
Help a ***** out
and take me far away
from here.
Anywhere,
take me anywhere but here.
From the edge of the thought galaxy
all the way back into your arms again.
Some day,
one day,
It'll happen on the worst day,
like the ******* Tuesday
ever.
Only cause something
greater than ourselves
wants us to know
**** gets better.
When people say stupid ****.
"I'm uncomfortable with people standing beside me, behind my back"
- It's not like we care about your business, we've got our own **** to watch.
You're just paranoid cause
you're either
a good person
or your
guilty.
So which are you?

Confused.
Delusional.
You aren't looking through
real eyes if you think
you own something
that is in it's core breathing.
Space is something
that exceeds
realms of
heaven,
earth,
&
hell.
So you can't own space,
cause it's shared in
everything.
& even if you could buy space,
I think the only entity,
you could buy
from would
have to be
a lie dealer,
with fangs & horns.
Hell is the only place you
can buy space in.
***** money runs ***** places.
Kind of like a *******.


On a personal note.
Gold Coast, I almost worked there and I would have made 600 a night.
I'm glad I walked out of work with $25 in tips last Friday and kept my clothes on.
Talking to one of my best friends, Brittany, helped create this.



I gave you my
love
&
you gave me your lust.
&
it broke me down.
You left me
stranded,
defeated
&
alone
on the side of the
love
lane.
To watch my dreams
fade away with your tail-lights.
in
a
Western sunset.
&
From then on,
it's been nothing but darkness.
I had to write a process analysis paper for my adv. comp class Senior year.
My topic was an acid trip. Hope you enjoy.


Bored with the various street drugs that you take daily to achieve a mediocre high, you long for something new. You're striving to reach enlightenment, mental clarity, and an escape from your worldly woes. By chance or fate, you come across a man selling what he claims to be the best of all drugs: LSD, lysergic acid diethylamide-25, better known as acid. This appears to be the only way your mind and, in turn, your soul will experience the mysterious and desirable acid trip.
Upon impulse, you purchase the drug. This was saturated in a piece of newspaper. As you survey your ticket to mental bliss, you read the words on the small paper. The sentences of the article were cut to meet the spacial requirements of the acid. This made the paper difficult to read. Deep within the mess of incomplete thoughts and ideas, your eyes cross paths with the word peace. The simple but powerful word that was camouflaged in the unfinished article increased your desire to take the LSD. The "peace" was your chance to free your mind and consequently yourself.
Giving into impulse, you place the paper under your tongue. Like the words on the paper, the acid dissolves into your glands entering your body with aspirations of arriving upon your brain. Moments later, you feel nothing. You were expecting the drug to work immediately upon contact. This was far too big of an expectation. LSD like many other medications needs time before it comes to life. Disappointed, you retreat to your living room to watch a film on the television. As you sit in the dark, ruby red chair, your only thoughts are about acid.
An hour later you feel nauseous. Racing to the bathroom it starts to hit you. The porcelain toilet and clear water within is your muse. With each heave, you notice a minor change in your mind. When finished with vomiting, you realize your stomach is empty. You try to think of something to eat but your stomach has no desire to take anything.
The mirror catches your attention and there you stand staring at yourself. While gazing upon yourself, you notice your pupils have dilated. The large black circles that were once small now resemble the largest craters on the moon's surface. During this moment of time, your vision is misty. Every shape has a fog surrounding it.
When your hand reaches the forehead, the temperature of your skin burns it. As your hand rests there longer, your fingers are cooled by little drops of sweat that slowly flow down your forehead in an effort to cool your body. You conclude that the fever has created the sweat that is secreting from your body. The moisture from the evaporating liquid has created a misty air. This realization leads you to believe that the acid was beginning to take control.
An immense thirst has dried your throat and mouth. Like a desert they both need water. You have this newfound energy and possess the amount of adrenaline that can keep you up for days. You feel invulnerable and this is the healing hour for the body and soul. As the second hour of your experience comes to a close you have covered a lot of ground. You have gone from having control to no control. The acid has changed you. The man you were two hours ago was in a different dimension. In this dimension you are a new and different man.
The third hour has brought the acid to its maximum power. Your high is peaking. The visions you see and the sounds you hear paint beautiful hallucinations. They feel sensational and bring waves of shivers up and down your spine. The television screen looks like a portal to a new world, and the sounds it makes sound like greetings in a foreign language. Your eyes close and you open them immediately. Realizing this is not a dream, a state of confusion fogs your mind. Despite reality, every thought and action feels dreamlike.
Contemplating the situation, you ask yourself if this is normal. Cackling, you scream, “Normal does not exist. Normality is simply an impossible goal that has plagued society since the beginning of time." The once well known actions and thoughts that molded you were strange and unknown. This was the point of no return. You would never go back to the past. Normal process occurs no longer this far into an acid trip.
You feel groovy. Everything is fine. Your face is frozen in the shape of a smile. Nothing can take you down. The serotonin in your brain has been altered, making every moment feel good. Still staring at the screen, you see a tiny man waving at you. The physical greeting he gives you carries the sound of a hello. When he opens his mouth you see what he says. Each word is portrayed by a symbol in an unclear language. The symbols hypnotize you and give you comfort. The mind without acid would see nothing in the hypnotic symbols. But the symbols converse with you. Your sensations have now crossed over. Sights have turned to sounds, and sounds to sights.
Matter is glowing with a faint rainbow that lies on each objects surface. The fourth hour of your high is ending, the man in the television is becoming harder and harder to see. Like your high, the man is leaving. Over the next two hours, you slowly drift back to reality. The once sea bound boat is approaching land and, with each passing wave, you are coming closer to sobriety.
The loud song of the cuckoo clock has marked the sixth hour. LSD no longer controls you. You are a different man but in the same respect, the same. At your command you gave yourself to a higher power, one that intensified your emotions and took you back to man's primitive mind set. Drained from the crusade, you turn off the television to rest in the quiet. The sun is leaving with your energy. A cool breeze travels through the room which carries you to sleep.
If they don't
have anything nice
to say.
Then tell them
to shut
the ****
UP.

**** em' with kindness
and if all else fails
flash your pistol
and **** it.

Lick your lips
&
tell them
to **** it.
Call the Doctor,
Text a Nurse.
I think I'm getting sick.
I've been avoided like the plague.
Cause I spread like disease.
I think.
I think that
I'm going viral.

— The End —