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“Solid; The Whitest Dose.”

Deby says: “Picture a mountain. Lofty Peak. Slope. Trees. Plateau. A beautiful, large mountain with a snow base.” You are beyond words in this meditation. But you still have words. “I hate this mountain.” – Not every one.

You are a mountain. You suddenly have no words. You change as a mountain within season, survival renders as light or as darkness. Our lives change, but the mountain remains amidst the universal web. The weather has no personality yet is as much invisible as the next galaxy. 

“You are a beautiful blanket of seasonal colours.” You only live once. True/False? 

You are a Tweaker. Bugs are crawling on your skin. Are you tripping, Man? Life is on my drug. The universe takes one with me. Mountains take a dump into a reservoir as I take mine with a grain of snow. I like the chemical brain. 

The Bible. That is, the ability (capacity) to understand it. 

Preston’s Pills. Phillip’s Almighty Cocaine Friday. The Beaten Bush. The Middle Path. The Grey Matter. 

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