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Anonymous
2016-04-30 09:38:51 Post No. 7981918
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Anonymous
2016-04-30 09:38:51
Post No. 7981918
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i work all day, and get half-stoned at night.
Awake at four twenty to soundless dark, I blaze.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I’ll see what’s always in my gaze:
Dank sticky buds, a whole lot higher now,
Making all thought impossible, oh wow,
But where and when I shall get more high.
Bubble hash inhalation: yet the dread
Of drymouth, eyes being red,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.