try try try

mormon ass ***** chump in the box of 6 tadpoles lurking heres a wedding baby at thanksgiving giving yells and cries of moans and hes stoned and cant dance, and the mountain itzu song was the name of my father, the mountain itza song was part of my mind. thoughts of mountains raining spiders. clenching lighters, feeling melted. spreading over lands and lands of vacations, yes vacations to space, open and wide, no thoughts or anything, corruption and hypnosis cease to be, as with ancient-ology and anything time. feel sleepy with drone and you feel alone might be stoned but concioussness has grown. no ritual of trees, even ones with bees, ritual of air OPEN TO DESPAIR, but theres a guitar out in Virginia hanging from a lamppost, broken. but old men play even in shawdows of bongs & waterslides, old founded baby youth. fountain of phonebooths, can't tell the difference between a matress and a wearwolf. so im going home and thats a hint from where the clouds will lift me to, taking a peace pipe and the forgotten mind mixing gasoline with cristillized decaying drugs that are just sublime in suitcase letters adressed to God saying if you exist tell me if im lost. TAKEing happiness SHAPEing confusion africanism could have started a race that downfalls in the RIVER OF CLEANSING ALPHABET MYSTERIES. APRAIS! APRAISE! APRAISE!

 

oh god i really cant believe how stoned i was to write this..like i smoked more than i ever have in my whole life..

 

people get high and act strange man. its life.