words are my drugs...if i could smoke 'em, drink 'em, or inject 'em then i would.
engaging an uphill battle, trying to bring thinking back into style.
the following was written while sitting at the oceans edge drinking a bass and spitting up shattered thoughts.
nicol the face of fuzz
two fish who never loved
swimming by the beach in too much sand
pollution in the sink is enough for one man
albatross albatross where is my salad?
a bass in my hand is a bass in the can
monkey foot and sour puss, two chickens and a friend
unbeknownst to them their friend was just a clone
