Sex / Solstice

                It occurs to me that I can't quite keep a thought in my head, or an image in my mind.  I reckon I'm either dead or dying.  No big trophy.

                I'm also ripping off Shawshank, but Shawshank ripped off It's King's short story so...

Whatever

                As I look at the words written above this line I think, "I'm off my meds, aren't I?"

I should rather have titled this post not Sex / Solstice,... but The Elements of Style by, some stoner, who's barely conscious at the moment.  You knew how stoned, you might be impressed he could spell the word, "conscious".

If you knew how stoned, you might be impressed by the fact that he could spell the word, "I"....

              pretty sure that's not funny.

Pretty sure, that's not poetry....


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