Stressful accumulation through years of mutilation have applied it’s pressure upon the mind. Decades of decadence, with little or no reverence, has warped my neurons blind. Misjudgments, and grugements have put me on the edge. My mind tittering with uncanny balance, looking over the ledge, to a situation one of a kind. There is a challenge to sway the balance, and let it off the beam. It only takes a small chore meant, to cease my torment of kissing the twin pipes it would seem. Ending my rage with the required gauge of twelve, twenty or more, it takes one pull while sitting on a stool, to relieve the mind so sore. So here I sit with pipes on lips, watching the hammer twitch, just one more instance, with little resistance, to end my life a bitch.
