random facts of verbal yearning

we don't give a jolly jack fuck about fashion. we care more about passion.
the perfect blend between heavenly and heavy. ozztek radio.
i want to fucking die! i hate this stupid fucking world!
all those cool lines i ever came up with, nuthing matters anymore.
my dreams still matter to me, so that's all i'm doing now.
reinventing style... one scam at a time.
her smiles could take me miles in style.
is no one in this stupid world capable of any true sympathy.
when a girl believes in a guy, it can turn a nerd into a superhero.
when a girl leaves a guy, it can turn any superhero into a pathetic wifebeating douchebag live on cnn. and youtube.
i am so fucking depressed.
i wish i had anyone to talk to.
i wish i still had anyone who believed in me.
i wish this stupid playground world had some fucking sympathy.
i can't even find sympathy on google.
is anyone else fucking with me on this.
your last dreamer is about to die like a unicorn.
would it even matter if i still told the whole story.
so much forgotten information, it's almost like my brain hates its own past.

alternate scene: we don't give a jolly jack flubberfuck about fashion.
what fucking eighties dance party are you crashin'.
ditch the coke, your life's a joke. learn to smoke.
technology is bringing new shyt into fashion, and it's not you.
pot. nudity. dreams. google it.
you and your fashion glambag of coke are out of style.
i crashed the party. find a bong and get with it.
we don't need to plastic credit card our noses,
to prop up our corpses at the party anymore. there's the door.
the future is time to relax,
cause there are no drama drunk idiots like you left to worry about.
shut up, turn off the popular music, take off the eighty layers of fear,
and let me help you see the future you were blind to.

and finally, the epic, nonsensical, yet inspirational ending:
and would people please stop bitching about my hands.
the last time i got sick was a year ago, i walked into a fry's and breathed.
i'm sick of people dictating how i live in your society.
if you want me to function in your society the way it demands,
first you have to prove to me that your society is functional.
and sane and logical.
i used to be a dirty handed superhero. now i ain't shyt.
i guess i dated a blowfish. a pufferfish?
she wasn't even that good at sucking, and never touched me.
our last argument was because i wanted her to touch me.
but i still loved every little piece of her.
i'll always miss my dirty hand lover,
no matter how far away she fades.
unconditional love.
she taught me that.
and you idiots want me to wash my hands for you.
you losers who have never done shyt for me.
and don't involve your dollars in this.
dollars aren't sympathy. dollars don't even buy sympathy.
they sure as fuck can't buy you unconditional love.
or didn't you watch any of those movies.

i'd rather have dirty hands and a girl who loves them,
than a fist full of dollars, and the women who love that.
before you sell me your society product again,
you should understand, your society is of no interest to me.

i'm creating my own.

with whom, you ask?

let me ask you, how many people has your society rejected. mmm.