Charcoal Chakra.

And I built this home from marshmallow goo and ginger beer residue. Strapped a roof of cards using cherry licorice rope and i only fill my stove with the finest of dope. "They're all too fucking kind, and fail to realize that we'll turn on you faster than a wolf in heat." No rhyme or reason, this jolly sing-along season. You can't spell and it doesn't look good without a period... ellipses. I don't pause for these god damn plug paisleys and they do the work of a sexclamation mark much more than any counter positive solution. This is no more a journal than a diarrhetic consumption of my bleeding girl parts... but there's puddles all around the floor. I can here the dripping down the pipes while i stutter not to feel. Everything exists and dies, what will we remember this time and who will recall our names. GAY MARTIANS!