Consider The Blunt

Rolling-Papers

The negative space between hyperbolic redundancy and an inadequate understanding of a ubiquitous-mind-inside-a-moving-mass-of-molecules is an absurdity of a post-modern disquiet in the bass-drop of a Trap song. The arbitrary eclecticism smells like a concocted ideology made of freeze-dried greed, a slow-burn heartache and a momentary fluctuation in the quantum soup. This lexical projectile-vomit of a taciturn brain on sudden Dopamine surplus, bordering on temporary lunacy, is unleashed with a desperate hope to collect unearned dividends of vacuous pretence and banal psychobabble. Fuck it, light a blunt man!

Inspired by a Reggie Watts and a mean, fat blunt! 😀

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