It’s time I loaded the pipe and reminded myself why I called you here in the first place.
It’s time I wrote about blood and gore and stopped scrawling my name in the clouds.
I am sick and tired of starting every sentence with me and never getting to the meat and potatoes of you and all you had to offer before you were aborted and your stem cells were plugged into the scientific research grid.
My spacesuit doesn’t fit and when you said we would be hanging out in a space capsule I didn’t think you actually meant an honest to God NASA space capsule.
I have to leave the capsule if I want to change my mind and I don’t believe we’re getting anywhere on these negotiations when seeing eye to eye is becoming less and less likely and all you seem to want to do is order room service and complain about your prime rib not being nearly rare enough.
It’s time for another Jif Extra Crunchy Peanut Butter and Smucker's® Strawberry Preserves sandwich. It’s time you called my bluff and I took you from behind like a Standard Schnauzer.
Okay I am going to now cleanse the doors of perception so things appear as they are, infinite with no congestion or sinus headache to get in the way.
I believe I was 2 years old the first time I met Buddha. He was sitting by the side of the road and when I stopped and offered him a ride he said he’d pass because he enjoyed waiting. When I asked what he was waiting for he didn’t answer nor did he have to.
The second time I met Buddha he was the one in the driver’s seat and when he sped by without even slowing down I just smiled and kept sitting under The Bodhi Tree because I knew my journey had just begun.