(Poem) Medicine

-Us Dallas gals and gents are quick to lend certain lessons on weathering Big D’s grit and grind. 
-Raving rants at mucus-thick Metroplex traffic makes one maniacal. 
-Barreling towards the bastardly boss’ meeting surges the b.p. 
-Performing torturous toil outside in our urban index will suck your soul. 
-Thus, the natives recommend a steady regimen to cure achy bones. 
-“Get that regular dose of nightlife in your system”—the kind composed of the booming base and piercing treble. 
-You and your crew, hit the sea of people and take every shot passed through. 
-Skylines of crystallized, green, blue, and white radiating your skin can replenish your Vitamin D.
-So, say goodbye to 9-to-5 P.M. depression. 
-Should this counsel not be enough to provoke the elevation of dreary eyes, induced by office conundrums, then look forward to drooping them even farther down. 
-Endless arrays are Deep Ellum’s boasts—the party sector pledging you ample opportunities fill much-needed prescriptions. 
-The yellow dress mistress, in all her ruby lipped, intoxicatingly fragranced, shiny haired glory and cloned posse have been waiting to do so, in your company since, 10 P.M.



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