Call my poems a weed series
About that plant dead serious
Boys in town and got it, pick it up and let it fill me
Many died for less I pick my poison let it kill me
Penned with weed feeling
Consuming not weed dealing for any peelers reading
My shit pure as bells pealing
Formula a complex theorem
First you fear em then you feed them
When you need em you can’t hear them
Doubt me about amount I smoke
Every breath spent taking tokes
I’ve got the most they’re taking notes
Smoked wreathed priest I raise the host
Above my head, I praise the ghost
Burnt offerings when I make the roast
Getting offered rings when I make my boasts
Getting offered things by my hundred hosts
I’ve got more in the bank than a Bezos
Y Abrazos my letter to your love signs off
Got high interests I can’t access
Got all the planets like Abraxas
High all the time accepted praxis
My practice leaks out like abscess
World soft thumb press indelibly impresses.
Alchemisland 
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