What if your lover or roommate is actually your bunky (bunk bed) and you actually live in a federal institution because of [REDACTED]. Then what if you have been imagining you are still free because the police hit you hard because of PTSD. The weed you smoke is actually a piece of your shit that you scraped out of the bowl with your bare hands, that is why it smells so funky man. When your bunk mate is released you are going to kill yourself in a car accident or with a gun and you will really be just having a seizure on the floor of the prison. Seizuring out until you pass out and reawake fully conscious in the federal institution. You will see it to be almost impossible to figure out why you are in there, you keep asking the guards if you can speak with a warden or someone who knows why you are in there but they treat you like a no good animal who is lying that they were never conscious of the fact that they were being arrested; regardless of how light of a crime it was. Then during lunch before the arrival of your new bunk mate, some gangster hits you over the head for your chocolate pudding and you go back to thinking you are free again.
-ME IN PRISON, REGARDLESS OF MY CONSCIOUSNESS. 👇👇👇