Dro's Monologue (it's not though)

I didn't chase anything that summer. I ran. I couldn't sit but when I did it was the perfect time to. We lit. We passed. Like dragons. The friendly kind. The kind with color. Haircuts, uncut, I wore it long and I glistened. Like a fucking angel. We hadn't seen it all yet. We haven't tasted it all yet. The sounds were only getting better and we were only learning new dance moves. Squirming. Prancing. Like a dance to the gods of non-believers. We prayed to the day and to the drugs and I can say now, it made us laugh. Effortless and comfortable laughs. The sun would rise high but we rose higher. I told you, we glistened and the sun squinted at the sight of us. Golden brown, roasted. We were probably better than your wet dream's perfectly roasted marshmallow. Sandwiched queers, oozing white. It looked queer and we were queer alright. But at least the dickless devils didn't choke us...that bad. The chase only began at the end. The means to a meaningless end, when all the trains have whipped passed us, that's when the chase found us. I remember thinking how badly I would trip over my own feet and eat shit if we kept running backwards like hell. Like this is hell.