A mask of blues that I found really have me down.
The tequila always seems to help.
If it doesn’t the weed suffice.
Especially the loud. Of course, I’ll rebound.
So let me light another smoke.
And take this lude and no food.
Got to free the soul. Let the spirit soar.
Maybe just a few tabs and blue 10.
Just a small sin. I guess it depends.
It could be the end. Or just a dead end.
He defends. No, it is what it is.
This little story. Delete it. To late, to late.
It’s on virtual paper now.
And already stolen by the cloud.
Backed up and waiting on the end.
The end of me. Waiting on the dead me.
A writer famous after death.
A dead wiki page. The blues?
Do they have you down?
Choices. I choose D.O.C.
Drug of my Choice.
For the blues to end.