empty sack

I feel hopeless, like that empty sack of weed

my ambitions that once flowed are dry like the inspirous spring

when the sack goes empty sobriety sets in

I get up, stretch out, and take a s**t that's green

and clean myself everywhere and everything in between

I pick out my hair and floss out the smokey plague from my teeth

cleaning myself from a hazey dream

in my hazey dreams all I do is sit and eat letting t.v. radiation burn my heavy eye lids

to put me to sleep

Author's Note

all the weed smokers who like going to sleep high