Too (Doubt Risk Live)

Preface: 

The book that should have never been written. 

I am tired of this shit. Sick and tired. Not sick sick, but more of the figurative variety that dooms both my mind and the future that is all too foreseeable. I don't want that future. A future of chronic ailments that haunts me until I cough myself helpless into my big-boy crib--AKA a $10,000 coffin. I don't even want one of those. 

The leaps my perspective has made during this rather lengthy cramp-my-gut jaunt, are dilating to say the least. And I'll be blunt. This is not a good thing. It's scary. It kind of freaks me out of my organic hemp shorts. If I wore underwear, I'd be out of those as well. Regardless, don't let my speckled humor downplay my italics. 

I'm frightened because I got caught up in this very struggle and 'caught-up' is too loose to approximate the seriousness of our dietary and other lifestyle decisions we make each and everyday. I got snagged. Hook in my lip, snagged. I wiggled. Wiggled some more--and chewed my way to more mouth gear. 

I'm frightened because I'm this knowledgeable health thinker who doesn't even drink water, but somehow, I cannot seem to control these urges. I know the facts and the realities that will creep themselves dormant from behind our disillusioned beliefs. Our beliefs that the local pharmacist or this TV physician will fix us good. A fully functional good. A slice, replace, and or mega-dosed facade, just waiting for cancer's dandelions to set up camp and do everything but pay the accumulating hospital bills. 

I'm frightened because I don't know if it is possible. Sponge-up all the effort in the world and feed it to every bi-pedaling jawed moron (all of us) via a vitamin a day--and I'm still not sure if it is possible. 

But let's try...