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dafremen
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The smell of hash is thick in the chill air today. Everyone wants a job. There are no jobs unless you're fresh out of school and ruthless, needy or naive as hell. I guess mostly we're the middle kind and the last kind. The first kind have money and options. They'll be working at buying back their souls later. Establishing foundations in a last ditch, hail-mary effort to score the touchdown of immortality for that non-existent entity the thought pattern called self.
But we're stuck here, like some half-crushed remnants forgotten in the press. Waiting for the next pressing. Looking for some escape. But there's no escape. Only the blood left in our skulls and hearts and bones. With the wave of a magic wand, sleight of hand, chanted deception..presto! A lobster dinner and a Lexus.
Hash lets you live with yourself. Hash and homelessness. Bankruptcy and hunger. These let you die with your conscience clean..if not your dreams intact. At least you didn't screw your brother over for a dime, yet. Yea the smell of hash is thick in the air, like oppression and apathy, overbearing and unattached. I'm liking it more and more.
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120225
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