Arklahoman Dystopian Crisis

O-K-L-A Yippie-Oh-I-Aye West A-R-K Woo Pig Sooie *Sooner born and Sooner bred, I think I might be Sooner dead because of all this year's events. *Newer storms grant future deaths, like deep-fried I.V. shooters' necks be clogged; blood stalls - pith's near its end. *Viewers' doorman sutures heads wiped clean, cites High King Loser's messy, long, dumb Balkan dear Misses. *Rooster roars; Sand Troopers press lightly high-fiving users freshly Chonged, buzzed talkin' dreary hymns. *If that sounds insane, just imagine my brain. *Pitch black now, it's safe but it's wracking night's grace. *Kicked back, lounge in space - dust hits masking life's face. *Zig-zag bounds this jay, plus scent's wacky like dank *At this point, life feels like a simulation. *Batshit noise like real-life assimilation. *Captain's choice, might seal my sinful damnation *Lavish void hides zeal ripe with maturation *I want to wake up back in Twenty-Nineteen; on New Year's Eve and all this shit's a dream *Why must gruesome facts so inevitably -bond to fears thieves planned meticulously? *Time's up, loosened slack froze interestingly, -pondering these grand political schemes. *Fuck it. *I'm out. *I give up. *I'll just get high about it.