Where to start. I hope it never finishes. Things seem so right. Things go so wrong. Perfection was real when I was fucked up. If I'll ever be the same; I'll never change A trillion bowls && at least 100 (e) pills later, I know what's good on my behalf. Passion is a doing, lust substitutes for my type of love. The feeling of a steady cash flow became my intimacy. Hustling turned into the best obsession; A wealthy choice. I am real; my friends became my acquaintances, bullshit was a no-go. In this world feelings don't matter; bitches will be merked with a companion named no-guilt. It's reality when plan "A" turns into plan "b" && u try to start all over with a plan"C"; shit just never seems to go the right way. u turn to ur only survival kit, get the blunt && spark that shit up! As the faint feeling of being lost; a controlled substance sets my mind free && no words ever ease the pain I allowed u to see, u may not understand me; it's because my situation has an over standing accomplice. Money is the motive; weed is the motivation; happiness is a hit away. Falling Down is just a necessary step in the process of gettin back up, And the Higher you wanna get. The more painful the falls become.