Put the needle to your skin feel reality's heroin

I don't puff blunts so I always got my breath

Inject this into your bloodstream and sit back, relax, and take a walk with me down backstreets and alleys and dirt roads where indigenous churn chill on dusty stoops and overturned milk crates. Feel the pulse of time seem away as your eyes roll into the back of daylight; glazing over like freshly baked donuts with a cup of milk on the side. Cloud Nine Time.

Yo Mona Lisa, could I get a date on Friday
And if you're busy, I wouldn't mind taking
Saturday-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay

Now, from this trance picture yourself awakening to a world full of misery, mayhem, and misfortune. Imagine feeling compelled to do everything and nothing. Wanting to take it all on. And feeling lazy and not wanting to be bothered. Imagine realizing that you've once again missed a potentially good opportunity due to either your haste or your laggardness. How do you best penalize yourself for not talking enough on one hand, while trying to find a way to censor your words because they can be so caustic that some people haven't spoken to you in years because of something that slipped out. Some people's mother told them not to say anything if you didn't have anything nice to say. Mine said that, too. But she also said, "fuq 'em." Verbatim. Imagine trying to explain that.

My own clan is acting up, I blame it on the Phillie blunt
-The Fugees, "Blunted On Reality (Remix)"

Now, imagine suffering from a brain freeze, writer's block, insomnia, and lethargy all at once. Yet, still wanting to play ball for a few hours. Either my body is seriously out-of-sync or I need some trees. I'm going to try and write something new for Tuesday night. If I'm unsuccessful, I may just have to hang it up for a while and find a new hobby. Here's to hoping for a good week.