Scrawl on the Wall 030

There is no magical pill that will your sanity restore. I've seen the numbers, the charts, the figures, and heard the testimonials of various esteemed people in fancy suits with very tacky designer eyeglass frames, and I think somewhere a corporate suit is making a lot of money selling socially acceptable drugs.

I close my eyes and I can see them all, bright blue, red, orange, gleaming gelatin, shining chemical lobotomy in a small brown bottle which I can never quite open.

You think we'd have something better now; a smile and a hug from a small and dark haired vixen once or twice a day, take as needed.

Why can't I just get some tiny little Goth Asian chick assigned to me for my medical well being?

There is warm, cuddly, goodness out there and I think someone knows that happiness can easily be achieved through human contact, which is hard to stuff in a bottle and push cotton on top of, so instead of going the good old fashioned path of homeopathic sunshine lovin', I just get recommended to take this big gleaming ovoid with some water and perhaps food.

All I want is wine, women, song, maybe some medicinal herbs... on like pizza or something.

The human brain is a complex animal.

It's like a kangaroo crossed with an alligator crossed with an ink pen.

Complex. And probably very badly designed.