“If I were to describe the bullshit ‘climate’ dance between the LEFT and RIGHT? – it would be a LIE chasing a DECEIVER … decades of useless GASLIGHTING from all.” – Dr. Freckles
Days without drinking …
“If you have to tell people how many days it’s been since you drank last? – you’re gonna drink again.” – Dr. Freckles
I take a pill …
I take a pill once daily …
It’s red and green and blue and mean.
I take a pill and it cleans out my stomach lining and burns away my herpes.
I take a pill for my low blood sugar, and one for my high blood sugar, and one for my cock and one to kill all the crabs in my jock.
I take this pill for my hernia …
My insides are GREEK and CURLY and my girlfriend left me for the guy that cleans roaches out of the septic tank.
I take a pill for my kidneys … my urine is red and black and filled with GAS NODULES and cocaine dream tarts. Hookers know, man.
I get this injection from the CHARLIE ROBERTS BRIGADE to crystallize my skin and turn my blood into boiling oil.
The injection widens my gaze and provides a green pasture style love-making experience to those of us from WESTERN TOOB-TOWN.
It cures my shakes and sadness, envy.
They gave me this “special sauce”.
I was tricked into having four delphi-tubes inserted into my rectum, while I was driving my Ferrari to RENO and doing coke off the butt of my stripper girlfriend, “Sanctity”.
We were 8 miles from Gypsum Town, when the SALT TRORG FIGHTERS began chasing us.
The doctors kept cutting into me …
They removed my heart and liver …
They extracted 20 miles of veins and arteries …
They replaced what was THERE with sawdust and broken glass and metal shavings and diesel fuel and tired remembering …
Remembering the stolen bone cart.
After they broke my legs and severed my thorax, I had a whole bunch of digestive issues and lactose intolerance.
They shoved asbestos stew down my gullet and watched as I ate all my cricket flour sundae …
They took turns ANGRILY tightening the cables on my spinal implants.
They got scared …
So the surgical team brought in DOC CHAINSAW and his TIGHT JEANS CREW of sexy nurses with untreated genital herpes.
They began massaging my glimptic-zone and relieving my main squirt pipe of pressure using an air lance.
After 5 hours, they stopped, chuckled.
I spent MONTHS doing physical therapy at the CASTRO GYM where the old FIRE GENTS would run sad-wax on their junk and murmur in the darkness.
They would scrape the TIG-MOLD off of the showers where the FROG-JUMPERS would swap gelatin. That stuff would sever connections between the different lobes of the brain and allow the THIRD EYE to glow in the veil as the MOGH-DEMONS roam the world.
STAG-FORGERS gather the salt-copper from the operating room floor, after the surgeons get done mopping up the viscera and clearing the blood flue …
I ate stolen blanche sandwiches and the sorbet of marrow.
KEVIN left me at the emergency room after the 4th overdose from Fentanyl …
I would switch to KROKODIL, but my heart muscle is weak and the bite marks on my spleen have not healed.
I skipped out on my last doctor’s appointment …
They wanted to check my pulse and verify my temperatures …
They spent time poking me with a iron rod attached to a car battery, they kept laughing and mocking me as I shook and twisted …
I lay broken upon the table, and the healthcare team NEVER let up …
They took gravel and pounded it into my wounds …
They took gasoline and put it in an IV bag and shoved that damn thing into my vein.
I turned blue and sought the hard LIFE on the outside, as I slit their throats and escaped through the laundry chute.
… all because I took a pill …
… all because I’m tired of feeling sick …