Do you accept Medicaid?...

This will be quick. Nevertheless, posting against my better judgment my conscious doesn’t let me get away with anything.


Butterflies, elevated heart rate, confusion, fogged thought process, I am sick. For one day I just want to be able to be deprived of the feeling. I want to hide from your thoughts, deliver myself from your words. Blown away by my eyes and what my mind perceives I am quite intimidated, which leaves me ill. So I must lay in my own mental imprisonment. Wondering what if? But a man can only take so much before a breaking point is met. And I’m close. But in a way, putting this on paper was kind of like me being granted a parole. I would like to prove my case to the jury but it’s so easy to get off track, blinded by beauty, captured by critical thoughts, and slaughtered by never ending word play. H E L P!



I want my cure. And not the generic brand. The good shit….