The WHO

"Just smoke a little pot, it'll make you feel better"

So naturally...
Then you wait for the comforting waves of THC bliss to take hold of your spine.
Eventually, you sink into your couch
the cushions take hold of your hair and pull your neck back into relaxation.
The music dances colorfully across your closed eyelids,
and the pain held in your joints, melts to the groove of your melting brain.
The euphoria of laughing your heart out over triviality,
is something rarely experienced and its yours for only ten dollars.

It's a wonder to think that such an experience can be bought for a minimal price.
Something as priceless as a universal pain killer
that produces euphoric happiness, with mild hallucinations
is just a gram bag away.
Who in their right mind would turn down something so utterly fantastic?

But once the high inevitably whisks itself away,
you're left to fall the great distance back down to earth,
and that fall can injure even the most professional tokers.

So when inevitability knocks,
that episode of South Park isn't quite as funny as it once was,
and the food you're eating doesn't taste as amazing as it did.
You feel tired so you go to sleep, without a care or worry in the world.

The dreams you dream are like none you've ever experienced before.
Vividness like you've never perceived and eccentricity that baffles the mind
keeps you dreaming longer than you should.

Once your conscious mind finally takes hold of your thoughts and you awake,
you question whether or not you're still dreaming.
You get out of your bed in a daze, a haze that fills the perception of your surroundings.
The dishes are still dirty, the laundry still hasn't been washed,
and the house is covered with empty wrappers and containers.
That reminds you that you have to take a shit, and not just any shit,
but one that can only be dumped by a man who gorged himself the night before.
Much different than a beer shit, a weed shit hurts more.
Dry salty snacks coagulate into a square brick that must be shat out a circular sphincter.

And as you sit on the can holding your head in both hands,
you know in your heart, the weed hang over is no gay picnic in the park like the night before.

Once you finally push the restart, it takes time to reboot,
and focus is miles from being attained.
Maybe a little of the hair of the dog that bit you would help.
So you grind it, roll it, and toke it.
Doesn't that make you feel better?