Eat, smoke, love, meow.

By Meowsers


All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey. I went for a walk, on a winters day, if I didn't tell her, I could leave today.

Sometimes within my view I can reach out for certain things, physical, or mental I guess. Music hums by my ears and I am complete. I have taken to smoking joints regularly and I feel at home in myself when I am high.

Things are distorted when your tongue tastes illegality, and you are free to roam your own head in ways we always wondered about. I am often dominant, but I am submissive to music, There's nothing quite like it.

I am still unhappy, wonder is my main aspiration, I like to think of what was, I don't want to do that anymore.


Wishes that grant kisses that grant permissive behavior. Do you long for wisdom too soon, or is it ignorance that plagues your chapped lips out here in our alternative spring. Weather like a mirror, reflects the sadness of the race, our race. The humans, we call ourselves are becoming new, evolving, devolving into a degenerative race of misery.

I can feel the bittersweet cloud of depression nicking at the hairs on the backs of our necks, burying itself in our warmth, in turn flushing out who we were before. I meet many consumed by it, like me, they hurt themselves, like a cult we all hate but are trapped inside with no hope of return.

Though this time it will not win. When I die I will let myself go, let my hair down, maybe take a vacation. When I die I shall be free to do so. But for now, I will look forward to our days together, they keep me going, and the train chugs helplessly on when you leave. I will take a vacation soon, somewhere warm and free, where I can open my books and curl up within myself, into worlds anew.

A place that is warm, where I can take out my tin and roll a J, and dissapear again.

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