The last gasping attempt to communicate with the outside world. A humble cry, from an un-humble soul of sum wretched “do” gooder’s’. Mumbles of Muses that muck more money … And …**** more too.. From my veins, Just before “C”, but after “V” too.
What will one do? When there or two? Or more. Of you?
These are the rambles. Of a soul, on sativa. I’m not talking just high? I’m not talking just ******? But the ULTIMATE ZEEDLED!!!!!!!
notable - this experiment, was conducted translucently, so do not worry. no "normal" brains were harmed in the making of this "poem"
just sayin
the reader now may ask, when was this made? 11.11.11.11.1111....oh 11.11.24 ****
I mean, writing poetry drunk I get........
perhaps even suicidal... but zeedled? What is this foul beast that lurks in every ones' mind?