omgomgomgicanwriteastoryrightnow

I lit the J at the corner of La Bella Dr. and Chemin De Reviere. It burned nicely. No, actually, it burned perfectly. I inhaled, and inhaled, and inhaled. Hold. Hold. Hold more. Exhale deeply. Repeat. The J twinkles slightly in the wind as I move silently. My destination? I don't know exactly, but I think its more about the journey at this point (forreals). I ended up circling the entire neighborhood. The world around me was all quiet, dead, abandoned. At one point, I talked to the shadows and no one answered back. We went upstairs, wait wtf? How did I get here, oh yeah, I'm inside my house already. Basically what happened was, oh, wait, we gotta reverse this. Hold up. *Whiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr* Hey, alright cool. So basically I started whistling on my way back to my house. I stopped at the front of the garage and started to beatbox. The beats came out all different-like, all diverse and different. They'd be some simple melodies or like just simple, monotonic notes (is that even a word?) and then there's the convoluted and complex, like chords on a guitar. At some point I vaulted into frays of the wild and flowed like no other. I flew like a bird and gunned down my enemies with my weapon of choice, my very own words. They were lost and scattered but came out fast like a sputtering tommy gun. They would also come out slow, thoughtful and ideal, coming out like a opinionted well-thought phrase.