The Floor Is Lava

I should pay extra for the heat up here. My plant shrivels and dies, and I grind its leaves into a powder. I smoke this powder in the heat:

Do nothing. Do not move. They can see you here because the window is open. They can see your bird. There is a staple in your stomach that pierces the back of the chair and pulls to the magnetic North Pole. Drink a grossly oversized drink because it will keep you at pace with the sweat. You will not sing "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" at morningtime. Isn't October lovely, even with the Satanists?