February 15th: This is to be a new chapter in my living narrative. With the advent of recent changes in this life I so improperly had been leading, I hope with the utmost sincerity they are lasting changes. It has come to a point in which I have called upon the aide of a deliberate force, a chemical force. And before I may continue, it need be known that chemicals are what brought me into my current state of lackluster. A risk? I should think so, however my will is seeking to purge my spirit of a cancer so piously imbued within my shivering soul. This is day one of the intervention plan Adderall. I know what this is today; I have had enough first times with the **** speed. No more need be said about what was felt other than this was the same happy high I remember.

February 16th:  Try and recall, I dare you.

February 17th: Two Adderall

Used to be convincing, now I'm word mincing
Funny guy telling lies, stop that face from wincing
Shut the word forge down, absurd surge start to pour out
Brain matter splatter in colored conviction, how I rattle off with four dimensional diction
Once this **** was scripted, now these lips don't do cryptic, legendary fiction, not yet mythic
Contemporary Christians sit listless, labeling those they hardly know
That's we, people like me, as infamous and wicked, can you even conceive
Not that I need the acquittal, never say please for a spoon full of ******
Hate this human disease; doubtful economic, muted mumbles of Ebonics, questionable hearts freeze
Turned cold-blooded because violence it seems is our cure all reprieve
Instead of honest admittance, no room for forgiveness, when we elect politics that lie
Ignite the engines that chain drive, infernal furnaces of the reapers design
Calling out to the sky; "forgive us were blind!"
Upon final inception, the birth of nightmarish conception
Awoken to world of hard line lesson, seasons of trick testing
So tell me then, can you live with A or B? dip those toes into sea and you'll know what I mean
Dare you to please.

There once were voices, that spoke of choices; blusterous and lustrous
With an air of must-trust-us in tone, atop a gilded throne, wanton, and alone.

My chest split, wide as a gapping cavity
I was glad to see the empty that spilt from inside of me
Not even close to divine prophesie, the vacant space decidedly was mine to elate silently
Sometimes even violently; concept into the arms variety, do not lie to me
Soul is priority, anxiety, the girl laying next to me
No, next to him, closer to than ever now to riding alongside the Calvary of several billion sins
All of whom are still egarly wishing
That they may yet be finally taken in the next gust of wind
Shunyata; weaponless is this army