and im drunk again. three whiskey cokes, and the lady at the dive bar makes 'em hard it's just a splash, she says to herself as she creates her concoction but it's got my ass in a chair with both hands in the air like a prayer or i'm at some sort of auction. "We ain't done yet boys" a buddy buys me a fireball, says drink fucker drink a shot of cinnamon shnopps, a shot of rum, two dashes of tobasco and a tingley numbness in my mouth that's got me smacking my lips, peeping the room for my next pick: ooh that sounds tastey, she looks fun, i feel sexy, i smell some chili cheese country fried bonafied beef burrito steak buns - and i want some. I want some right now. I want fun, right now. Right now. Like, right now, right now. and this is what excites me from my day to day monotony of paper or plastic? Debit or credit? And Thank you come agains nothing compares to the thrill of immediacy getting what you want when ya want it nirvana in a can heaven in the palms of my hands the st! ate of being of which I speak is quite similar to the perhaps false but all too real altered state of mind unraveled by naturalistic, holistic, and synthetic drugs, Dex, X, Mary Jane, Lucy, and amphetamines cubensi caps, salvia, coke, caffeine and nicotine uppers, downers, alcohol, sugar and love. Or perhaps its just lust? yeah, lust that hot lust none of that kind that's got you tongue-tied but the kind that's got you blabberin', your mind shootin off like fireworks stuffed with hot sauce and
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