Am I just a five-dollar bill that goes through the wash and you find in the pocket of your favorite pair of jeans? Am I just spent on a gallon of milk and a gallon of gas that lets you drive back home and serve coffee to all your friends? And that night when you reach into your pocket and pull out two dimes and a nickel, you toss them onto your desk with the rest of your change, because I’m not the first quarter you ever had.
I clicked on the link in your sig and found this. You're quite intelligent when it comes to drugs AND you can write poetry; very cool. This reminded me of Tupac's poetry from the book The Rose That Grew From Concrete. Pretty damn awesome.
^^I think it's prose =)
yea, you're right, it's pretty prosaic...