here i am still trying to get high off scrapes from my DMT jars wtf

yes that is what im reduced to...wtf does that say about me

desperation comes to mind

desperate for a fix all as i hold in each patheicaly rolled spliffs of tobacco where i've just literally just scraped round the sides of these jars with a knife to try and extract anything i can

and my son just calls out 'can i have a bowl of ceral....he just stretched and farted in my presence and explains they dont have english tomorrow

he is currently listing that they do not have homework tomorrow

he is listing what they have 2mo
where is katniss he asks
what am i ranting about now he asks

ok thankyou very much bye

he says with his food order

i shall comply with hhis food order
i score 0 points
i eat my son

the healthsystem sctatches its heads and reforms after ignoring all the warning signs

i dont like mondays

i ate my son
yes you heard it here

except of course i have not eaten his son, my son...yeh know

but he still awaits cheerios
and my daughter is home to walk me to the local shop
but im not aggrophobic like fuck
 
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