. . Love Laced In Cyanide . .

Guitar in my hand, with scars on wrist. Every sound a feel is new. I strum the string with my fingers with a joint in the other hand. My vision is perplexed and I see double. Straight Fuck It. I'm high. The smell of candles, body spray, and weed fill the air. I open a window for fresh New Jersey air to come in.... Refreshing, I stumble and tumble and laugh nonchalantly. God know how I am typing this right now, the keys all seem to blend together. I hope my parent don't smell it. They are in their room which is like right next to mine. But, dude I'm chill, not paranoid like before. They are preoccupied with the Superbowl. Giants vs. Patriots. I am rooting for the Giants, but I have a strange feeling that they will lose to the Patriots.... I'm effin' hungry.

P.s: Spell check is the only making this post not seem that bad..... Oh yeah and I started writing this post at 6:25 pm and finished at 9:50 pm.