Rose Colored Fantasy

Dear diary, my days fallen to shit, everyone's arguing, relationships split, peoples been hit, and yet here I sit, and think, wow what a fucked up world we live in, where intoxication in the form of cardboard rips in and the trips hit, phsycadelics on the tip of my tongue my lips I'll lick and take a drink and think back, on to times much simpler, when herb and a pipe weren't seen on the regular, when the crisp clean air on is own was spectacular, life itself a trip magnifica.

With my glasses on everything seems new to me, here all alone in my rose colored fantasy.