A complete unknown.

Going down 120th in one of the classics.
Passing a ******* barrel on this slighted Sunday afternoon.
With a tub of acid heating up on the dash.
Dylan's "Like a rolling Stone" playing loud and Ruthless.
A mind filled with a heavy buzz.
No lying.
No harm or ill flying around.
Only the road.
Defying all the unknown that's abound.


Garrett Johnson.

Leather acid tests.

Wednesday- I'm back, went to San Fran, did some jenkem, I don't recommend, And I didn't make it.
7/4/19- Sat from a far, Watched the fire works alone while talking to my imaginary friend.
Friday- Woke up form an ether stupor, masculine, shot up some of grandma's finest neon soup.
7/7/19 around 5:00 pm- went to the community festival, had a cookie, blasted off into the outer reaches of space with a girl, and a guy.
A few hours later- met my clone.
The day after- Went to Idaho with the girl, made love in a barn, old fashioned rebel style.
7/15/19- Drove back to San Fran in my doctor's space can, Write, write, wrote, write some more.
.
,
.
Very sure we died here.



Garrett Johnson