“Of geese, of goose.”

Picture a prostitute telling me that I need to get my shit together.

Imagine a judge telling me that I have no insight into my own trips-my own life.

As though I was strangely absent from the whole thing.

The hypocrisy.

The absurdity.

Thanks for not jabbing me. I guess.

I’ll swallow your bullshit. For now.

Provided I stay away from the powder and herb.

Provided I get some damned sleep.

I’ll be alright.