Haha Gigs... it was a low dose. Pretty damn effective at times, but definitely didn't forget how to work a computer, haha. Could still type at least 60 wpm.
I played on the computer a bit, mostly using textedit to freeform write... here's a little of what came out for y'all, if you like that sorta thing:
Dosing up. Toast. Pouring gold down olden throats.
To all goats, come roasts. To all hosts, come ghosts.
Float upon the river bed. Silent codes to figure in.
Final hopes disfiguring, amongst the effigy of opal.
Opined offering: I lay my throat hole open
and wait for summer, hoping. Oh Mother-Father, hold this.
A scold-less mold fit upon the motor of my river boat.
Every time I reach to toast, come down and sooth my inner ghost.
May he rest in peace. Though he fears he'll rest in pieces.
May that jest be sweet upon the mind it's come to speak with.
For fear is just a long, lost, relative of love.
By the blood of our interconnection... may he be resolved.
Yes, you'll rest in peace. Now be sweet, and lay your head down.
Listen close to street sounds, until you find them drowned out.
Every avenue is on the effigy of peace--
for the ones who come to notice, and ones who can release.
Now, I don't mean to be mean, and I don't mean to be sweetly.
No scheme in my beliefs, just a compromised entreaty.
There's lots of twists to this, man. A lot of ins and outs.
Yes, there's a beverage here, man. And a mind grown thick with clouds.
Keep that throat hole open. And let it billow doubts.
Whatever sounds may come to you. Whatever must come out.