you have returned. these past few weeks you have been strutting your stuff, cat-walking on the stroll ways of my powerless mind. once you arrived for the taking i just had to grab you, and now it's deja-vu. i thought your appeal has withered away, but the pushers presented a recent edition of you to me, without even a hint of creativity in at least inventing a new label for you. all they did was attach the digits representative of next year besides your all too familiar trade name. i have never met a more lackadaisical cartel, didn't they learn anything about branding from those drug dealers in the wire?
no they didn't.
but on the real, they don't need to, the power of the product is sufficient enough to attain and sustain interest.
lades and gents, i am an addict on the path of extreme re-lapse. year after year. promises of being free from substance for eternity will forever be empty.
i am a sad sad, sad lonely man.
wasted for days, sniffing what some have dubbed "digital cocaine"