I'm a communist and I'm on the drugs!

[Clizownmothafackoz17]

Both of these are facts I'm trying to come to terms with right now. I will apologize for neither. I believe and I will always believe that the psychedelics are beneficial, if used in moderation from time to time. And I will always believe in the right of the workers to run their own lives--to be more than merely mechanical appendages to the capitalist class. We're human beings, goddamnit. And one day we will win the goddamned world.
It's weird. I feel that this is a severely powerful dose I'm on, but my faculties for speech, writing, etc, remain unusually intact (unless I'm terribly mistaken) for such a surging, powerful rush from the depths of the subconscious. Then again, I feel that I'm still in the early stages of this beast. Conceptual disintegration remains a very real, menacingly looming possibility.
Generally the psychedelics kill my desires of the flesh. I don't want to drink sake or to fuck bitches or eat double cheeseburgers or to sleep for 12 hours or any of that until the high wears off. But right now I'm fiending terribly for intellectual stimulus, seemingly of any kind. INFORMATION! FACTS! History. Sports. But everyone is asleep in the building. And I have to tip-toe about like a rat avoiding the hammer swinging down on the rat trap for fear of aggravating someone.
I'm a polite ass mothafucka. I don't fear death. I surely don't fear a fight. I'll fight Brock Lesnar, Fedor, both of em at once, whoever, I don't give a fuck. But, I fear that I fear unpleasantness. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. I don't want to be rude.
I am a communist. I am on the drugs. I love my mother and father very much. My friends are very good to me. No more analysis. Boiling down to basics.
Warehouse work.
Magic.
Here comes the sun.