At least now I can stop running, and I can allay the fear of getting arrested. The worst has happened. They have my body, but they will never get my curiously deranged, THC-addled mind. I console myself with the thought that it’s not over yet. There is still the final showdown with the Authorities to get me excited.
I know they are going to put a lot of pressure on me to roll over, lick my nuts, and become a rat. But fuck them. Even as the prison doors slam shut, I will not go gently into my cell. I’ll fight these mindless bureaucrats with every ounce of resolve, every fiber of my being because I believe it’s the right thing to do.
Follow me down as I go deep inside, take the inner journey, find and connect with my higher self to discover what I’m really made of. Then, God willing, I will survive this sojourn in the land of the living dead with body and soul intact.
Peace out.
Smuggler's Blues Page 32