Shut up, and read

Shut up and read.

And let me smoke my joint.

I’m trying to medicate my way to happiness.

Hopefully, the melody of THC will immobilize me,

somewhere between my couch and empathy.

Yeah, at this point, it’s the weed talking now. It's gotten into me.

You can tell by the lack of restraint in my commentary

and how it’s somewhat low brow, now.

Before you even ask, I’ll tell you how, everything’s gotten into me.

What’s the point in censoring my shit anyway, no matter what I do

everybody judges me.

Least I’m not putting cocaine, heroin or some other gross shit into me.

Just Mary Jane.

Say whatever-the-fuck you want, I thank God for my herbal muse because

she’s been there for me, in so many ways.

Made it hurt a little less, and kept me sane, eating Cheetos, whilst playing a

little Cyprus Hill, insane in the membrane.