Sorry if I offend, or if I come off as stupid again.
I was bored and felt like actually trying to be "creative"
I have many mental health issues, so don't take anything in here seriously.
His "creative" juices are flowin again.
although,if Joan had ither way,
he'd be stuck up at her place againdrinkin gin.
Some debate if he's capable of making use of this pen.
If they don't comprehend, fuck 'em then.
He attempts to be friendly when he can.
If you can't understand.
He's got a finger for ya in each hand.
And each one is aimin' at the moon.
Soon you'll see that he's crazier than looney toons.
Sittin at home alone,
talkin back to his friends on speaker phone,
while eatin' a T-bone steak again.
Thats when he pops another Klonopin.
So don't be mistaken when he flops back and collapses in the ottoman,
he'll be back in about an hour or ten.
Mental health issues.
Yeah, he's got 'em.
Hell, he's got less brain cells than a fish do.
Clinically depressed, cynical, stressed, ocd, and all the rest.
Are you impressed?
Sodon't blame him when he blows an IQ test,
splits his flesh,
and goes into cardiac arrest.
Wakes up in a straight jacket.
Was that just a drunk rabbit doin' doin jummping jacks?
Or perhaps he just relapsed on crack, acid, and shrooms again.
And it was just a hallucination.
He's off his meds,
shakin' in his bed,
with a headache in his head.
Takes a blood pressure med,
calls his friend to see what she has to said.
Shit, he meant "say".
How are you today?"
She seems to be okay,
says "hey, wanna come down and play?
We'll meet on the farm, J."
but I'm stuck in the hood,
maybe another time.
For now, let's just meet on "live"."
Two nights in a row she calms his mind.
Now he's feelin insane,
brain's off the chain.
stands in the rain,
lightning rod in hand,
got a plan to ease his pain.
Damn, no luck.
So what's next?
Oh, here comes a pickup truck.
This aint no stunt.
He stands out in front.
But it swerves, misses, and hits the curb.
But he won't be deterred.
Surely, his next plan will work thoroughly.
Death by "G.I. Johnathan".
His crazy neighbor who carries a gun,
and is pissed off at him some.
He'll talk some shit,
bullets will fly,
he'll get hit,
fall to the ground,
bleed and die.
But oh shit!
John just came out of the closet,
and admits his intersest in guys.
All of this time,
he held it inside,
it manifested in anger.
Now no more lies,
he professes his love,
and once again,
our mans' plans go awry.
It's time to admit.
He's stuck in limbo,
no place to go.
So he goes home,
orders some dominoes,
and lightens up.
With fingers up,
"if you don't like me,
I just don't give a fuck!"