different approaches?

people keep misunderstanding me. people keep assuming that i don't try hard enough. people think they can do better. if you think you can do better, why don't you lose your home, lose all money, friends, family, connections, phone numbers, and most of your knowledge, and then get a fragmented, shattered, traumatized mind, get the shit beat out of you a few times, and a measurable amount of physical pain, not to mention the emotional pain of being rejected for three years straight, and don't just put yourself in my shoes, but do what i'm doing, get yourself a laptop, try not to get kicked out of a starfucks, or hell, you can be brave enough to give me the advantage, and use less efficient approaches, get hooked on drugs, don't even have a phone, holes in your shoes, blisters on your feet, and hell, cut a finger off, and see if you can do this. challenge yourself like i'm doing. see how much you can accomplish without your home. because i assume someone would like to cheat at this challenge, and step onto the street with nothing, and then just to look like a showoff, call some talent agent, and get shit started in a month. the shame that clouds over you is all too visible to everyone underneath you. shine a light on the fact that no one should be underneath you. and then ask yourself if you deserve to be above those people.

because i'm really going to try some different approaches. no matter how much it hurts me. no matter how fake the happiness feels to me, no matter how brutally the hatred burns and churns inside me... it's come to my attention that i have to just fake the smile. this stupid, weak society just cannot handle my anger, with or without the explanations. they are seriously that weak and fragile. but if you say that to them, they get defensive. angry. which says they think their anger is justified, but mine is not. their anger is justified because they're a part of society, they fit into this society, thus they're backed and supported by society, and they feel more secure with the fact that they can have an angry reaction, but for me, being homeless isn't a good enough reason to be angry. having my life destroyed and then blamed on me, isn't a good enough reason to be angry. going up against a tyrannical system just to get my kids back, not even that is a good enough reason for me to be angry at society. let alone being rejected for three years.

oh, so you don't think i've been rejected that much?
the numbers don't add up, the chances baffle you?

okay, how many times do you think i've asked in the last three years?
how many women do you think i've asked in the last three years?
and how many of them do you think said 'no'?

around a hundred?
between one hundred and five hundred?
between five hundred and a thousand?
somewhere between one thousand and five thousand?

that's even a multiple choice question, so you can feel right no matter what.

those aren't good enough reasons to be pissed off? then what is, in your book?

i wrote a journal once, about hatred, anger, and my favourite quotes surrounding the topics, plus as much verbal proof as i could provide supporting my theory. but to me, it's a fact. i obviously gives no fucks about what society thinks about anger, because i know what you think about anger is precisely wrong. wrong. w r o n g. fucking wrong. dead wrong. directly wrong. in opposition to the truth. dangerously wrong. disturbingly, disgustingly wrong. just fucking evil.

now... do you have my point sautee'd in your head yet? fillet'd, dissected, seasoned?

because the fact that you think my anger isn't justified, to me, it's too evil to have a word attached to it. disgusting is an understatement. disturbing is an understatement. vile doesn't even reach.

i could flip through thesauruses, i could play scrabble with the letters, i'll never get a yahtzee.

and i know i've already lost my two potential readers. hell, i've lost my own focus.

that's when i just keep writing till i manage to get back around to the original topic. try having that shit in your brain, and see if you can sound as genius as i do.

hell, just try to determine who the majority of that sarcasm is aimed at; you or me.

you think i don't have a good enough understanding of myself.
but that's because your understanding of me lacks in vital ways.

if i tell you to think of me as an alien, that doesn't even convey.
you start picturing fictional aliens, and stephen spielberg costumes.
things that make sense in your head, things that fit in your head.

whatever screen filter you can look at me through, instead of just human eye touching inner skin.

nudity. nakedness. vulnerability. and physical contact. alien terms to you. possibly offensive.

for me, the word 'nudity' is a permanent patch of skin on my tongue. a layer of self skin that speaks its own language without words. the innermost layer of honesty. and the outward most representation of it. a communication to kindred spirits.

are you understanding any of that, or is it too poetic for you?

understand me yet? cause that's the way i speak.
passion. poetry. vision. perspective. direction.
cocooned in languages of perfection and protection.
and self strengthened (cause i can't depend on others for that).

all i've been wanting for the last twenty years of my life is a little recognition of my talents.

but that was too much to ask. obviously.

so... what... humanity only accepts a challenge if it gets them on teevee?

why. why am i advertising myself for your attention?
why am i selling myself to the wrong consumers?
why do i put my ass on display when no one wants to see it?
i don't want to be bought or sold, and i don't want to compromise.
but to get anywhere past you, i have to compromise, you remove that choice.
and then i need to be bought or sold, i need to let you own me and handle me.

why?

what are you offering that's so great, i need to give up my life cause i'd rather live yours?

is any of this shit making sense to you yet?
cause i feel like i've repeated this a thousand times.

at this point, i'm just walking beaten trails in my mind, sweeping the thoughts and leaves to the side ears...

sorry... distracted. this stupid ditzy blonde bitch in a pink sleeveless sports top and skin tight black pants has to stand infront of me, at the starbucks 'pick up here' line, waiting for her fuckin' latte, and thinking she's so special, looking around to see who's looking at her. and just about the dumbest face i've ever seen on a yeti. or was that a warthog? fuck it, i'll just ask richard dawkins' wife.

oh, don't worry, i know you won't get that reference, so i'm not even going to explain it.

at this point, me explaining things for you is something you should pay me for.

seriously. you think i'm joking, you think you couldn't possibly be that stupid, but you're not even smart enough to understand my evidence, let alone force your mind open wide enough to accept it. i've joked about the jaws of life related to craniums so many times, it's just not funny anymore. that joke is a fossil in my mental thought path, the most beaten and flattened part of it. and i can't even get a psychiatrist to read any of this shit, so... you know... what the fuck am i trying to prove to you, and more importantly... fuckin' why? i've made it so glaringly clear that i'm looking for my people, not you. but after hearing an argument between alex jones and peter joseph this morning, now i'm even less confident about any connection, and even more astonished at the division between every human and every other human, except the plastic mannequin clones that group together like the robots in 'i, robot'. umbrella choices house too many people, yet not enough people. and keep us safe from what rain? we perceive a fraction of what's right beyond our senses, yet we think we're seeing it all.

then, a man comes along trying to convince you otherwise.

eighty generations of trial and error...

how come i can picture... eighty billion years in our future? how come i can see that?

are you on the same channel i am? did the string between our cans break?

it's like playing a game of 'musical umbrella choices', trying to find the umbrella choice that houses us all comfortably, where we can agree on something, but until we do, we have to fight over umbrellas, and destroy everything in pursuit of better options.

rather than learning from what's infront of us.

like a mental test, where you have to pass the current level to get the necessary information about the next level...

there are many ways i could think of this. many lights, many angles.

but there's this unwanted voice in my head.

i know this is gonna sound crazy, but don't run just yet.

i have my voice in my mind. when i think something, i've always wanted some response.

that's what a conversation is, is it not?

but there's this defective data bank that's collected imprints of all the responses i've ever gotten from society...

yeah. startin' to see where that's headed?

so when i think something in my head, the response is always this siren alarm from the naysayer farm. this almost incoherent, negative projectile regurgitation of fire retardant chemical foam.

the cult of refusal to open your mind.

and it's permanently locked in a cage in my head. but the cage isn't soundproof.

and how i wish it was.

it's me telling my grandmother to shut the fuck up for eighty billion years.
it's an eternity in her hell, trying to tape her mouth shut.
begging her to stop shoving her religion down my throat.
begging her god to control the marionette strings better.

so anything i think... before you can say no, your clone voice in my head has already said no.

that's why i walk away so quick before even hearing your answer.
that's when you have to understand; i've already given up a thousand times.

...right where you stand.

i like being the first to walk away. it's the only success i can carry.

dana keeps trying to tell me this story about two wolves in the heart. first of all, i've never had that much of a fondness for wolves or dolphins or unicorns, or other creatures you see lining the walls of a teenage girl's room. yes, i'm aware that animals exist on this planet.

i'm also aware of this...

'in death, not only are the mightiest and the most humble brought down to the same level, but we're not different from any other organism'...

a little sound bite from a record called ocean machine.

i'm a collector, a connoisseur of one liner lessons and life truths.

the ones my mother taught me, i'd love to put in a children's book someday.

lessons like 'it's better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you're stupid, rather than open it and prove it'.

god, i fucking hate perfect women. i hate hot women.
the fact that they refuse to look at me... is all i need to know.
and then to have you doubt me at every step.
it's all being collected like rain water in that naysayer farm in my head.

anyway... and lessons like 'don't just learn from your own mistakes, watch the show cops'.

i credit my mother with that, but honestly, my mind's so traumatized and fragmented and shattered at this point, i'm not entirely confident it was her who said it, it might have been me. her and i had a shitload of deep conversations, and now her voice, her input... is gone.

no longer part of the conversation.

it's too obvious what my hurdles are. i'm all too aware.

it's the source of most of my hopelessness. the reason my heart plummets.

like a backpacker hiking up a mountain alone.

that silence resonates in my heart like an old familiar ancestor.
that air carries my dreams like a floating blanket of cloud.

oddly enough, i feel more connected with that earth, than anything within a thousand miles of a credit card. i can hear her talk to me there. anyone else would say, 'there's a difference between thinking you're there, and being there'. if you understood me as well as i know myself, you'd see that point dulled like a toothpick on concrete. my connection with this earth has always defied you.

visions through the sunrises, storms on my skin...

the synaesthetic taste of the storm's mood.
and the ancient connection to it's ancestor storms.
among the sea of purposes.

anyway. last night, i watched a video.

about 'the red pill'.

about feminism and men's rights activists.

about 'woman haters'.

well, fuck it, i think i've finally found my home. that's where i belong. obviously.

certainly not starfucks, looking at a sea of plastic mannequin ass.

a society obsessed with ass.

but how come their faces still look like the mannequins in the store windows?

why do they obsess over their asses, but not their faces?

is there some sort of humour in that, that i'm apparently missing?

and those skin tight pants... why, ladies. every goddamned one of you? seriously?

why? what's the purpose? you don't want to blend in too much, but you don't want to stand out too much either? what is it? do you even know? did you consider that when you got dressed this morning? did you consider that when you stepped out of the shower? did you consider that when you stepped out of your front door into the world?

do you ever fear, 'what mannequin am i going to look like today'?.

cause i fuckin' don't. but then again, i'm comfortable with myself.

i know there are no mannequins or clones out there wanting to be me.

all the 'security' they advertise and try to sell you on teevee...
the security i get from that fact is worth trillions more.

stupid fucking perfect blondes in starfucks. how unique do you think you are.

i bet i could google map another starfucks, right now, zoom in with the street view, and find a starfucks in new york city, where there's a blonde that looks exactly like you, dressed just like you, and ordering the exact same thing you're ordering this very morning, i'll bet you a billion bucks.

down to the apps on your fuckin' phone.

you're a fuckin' clone.

convinced that you're unique. to justify your belief that you're better than me.

so when snobby women refuse to look at me... tell me i don't know exactly what's in your head.

go ahead, tell me. i want to hear it in your voice. because it's hotter that way.

that's now officially a turn on for me. yeah, boioioioioioing. go on wit your bad self, beavis.

you're goddamn right.

'i know what a lot of you are thinking right now. you're thinking, hey man, this guy... is it. well you're right. i am it, i've always been it, even in elementary school when the other kids would play tag...

kid would come up, tap me on the shoulder and say 'you're it', you're goddamn right, buddy'.

praise the lowered for jimmy pineapple.

but, whatever all this says so far, doesn't say shit, because i still haven't gotten anywhere beyond where i've been. my attempts have failed. all the different approaches have failed.

collecting their perspectives has failed.
appealing to their joys has failed.
using car jacks on the sides of their lips has failed.

yet they still seem like sarcastic, hateful mirror reflections of my inner self that hates me the most.

the failure surrounding the success.

the gold bar drowning in a pile of patriotic shit.

the nutritional sustenance of internet rants.

the educational value of a cereal box.

so i'm being forced, once again, by my own self, to compromise further, and beg for their smiles, pay for their smiles, appeal to their smiles, because the lesson i've learned, is that frowns walk away from frowns like magnets reversed. we're made to oppose eachother like a handful of thumbs.

'this isn't music, and we're not a band, we're five middle fingers on a mutherfuckin' hand'.

thank god for satan.

if only hitler hadn't killed the wrong people.

that television should have been a sunclad memorial. solar powered.

with a snack machine.

so... compromise. again.

having to bury the misery, agony, hatred, and anger within me even deeper...
having to fake the smile that society wants from me before i can pass to step two...
selling my mutherfucking soul.

trading it for a fuckin' cheeseburger.

all the strong ones say 'don't compromise yourself to get here'.

what's my other option?

i get rejected more than donald trump.
i get rejected more than bill cosby.
i get rejected more than that methhead bum in the alley.

and get your stupid fucking kids away from me! clean their fucking faces!

i swear to christ, if my daughter has food caked on her face like that, i'm driving this planet into the fucking sun. i swear on my mother's tears.

fucking distractions.

they have their own concessions.

surrounding the baseball game of human humiliation television stations.

i get rejected more than your credit card.
i get rejected more than your ugly cousin.
i get rejected more than condoms and birth control pills combined.
i get rejected more than aspiring writers.
i get rejected more than all the students aiming for harvard.

i get rejected more than you.
i'd bet money on it.
i'd bet my whole disability check, and my left nut.
i'd bet my daughter's pigtails. (i never wanted her hair like that).

but it doesn't matter what i want.
it doesn't matter what i've done.

success is only measured in billions.

i'm not trying to get everyone's attention.
i'm just trying to find my people.

it's not my fault your world has made it virtually impossible from ground level.

i still have the confidence that i can outthink you, but as far as fuel... you're still the only gas station for miles, and you can't even afford a 'last gas for x miles' sign, or perhaps you don't have room for it between all the other 'don't do this' signs.

desolation.

desperation.

violation.

hopelessness.

they made that movie, 'the pursuit of happyness'...

they didn't make the sequel, 'the pursuit of hopelessness'.

i'd bet you a trillion dollars, none of my thoughts add up to even one number in your head.

and the poetry just eats away at the number like light bullets eat centipede mushrooms.

there simply is no way i can stick a new vision into an old head.

it's not just 'you can't teach an old dog new tricks' anymore. the old dogs own your voice.

no one looks like me in this part of town.
no one looks at me in this part of town.

you would think that another black trench coat might pass by and say 'hey, cool'...

or might let that give them a reason to stick around for a moment...

to ask some questions, laugh at some answers...

so ask yourself, how fake is this part of town?

how hateful?
how disconnected?
how divided?

if your goal was 'divide and conquer', how do you think you'd accomplish that?

have you ever asked yourself that question?

so... i have to try something different. to fake a smile. to appeal to the wrong people. because the right people are walls behind walls, doors beyond doors, lies over lies.

the chalk on the street may tell you that jesus saves...

but jesus lies.

no saviour of mine would ever weep. he'd just turn into a nihilist.

what, you don't think god would have a reset button? this is an experiment after all, is it not?

god, how confident in yourself are you?

what is the value of truth when surrounded by lies?

and in a chaotic sea of foggy thoughts, how can you hear yourself? how can you comfort yourself? how can you know yourself? how can you remember yourself? how can you strengthen yourself?

on desert plains...
no ear within a thousand miles...
only two hands...
only two feet...
and one useless cock.

and a heart you cannot silence.
a heart that fights against your every thought, regardless of direction or intention.

like a bag of magnets in the hand of an undisciplined child.

out of this chaos, which direction do you step to find your own answer?

did timothy leary even know that? did any of his trips reach it?

that top back corner shelf in the darkness of your unknown mind...
covered in spiderwebs and dust...

is it still even there?

i wanted to send something to the site... well, i guess i skipped this part...

that video i watched last night. mentioned a site for 'woman haters' called 'a voice for men'.

i went to it, but it was too confusing to understand or navigate. but i wanted to send something of mine to them, or post something on their site, but...

i think anyone on this planet right now could be all too capable of underestimating my lack of confidence in any of these situations. meaning, my confidence is literally nonexistent. especially around all these clones and starfucks mannequins. i know i'm in the wrong place. i can't even ask these people where the right place is. they couldn't point a finger.

'hey, you're not my people, you're nothing like me, so where are my people?'.

i bet you twenty bucks, right now... they'd point up.

or, actually, how much you wanna bet my luck would stab my ass right then, and they would actually point down, showing me how wrong people's assumptions of me truly are.

so you think i came from magma rather than arcturus? hmm... enlightening. informative.

thanks.

but anyway. perhaps i've finally found a platform for my voice?

a place where i might actually... not only belong, but be useful? wanted?

granted it's a sausage party, not one female would be brave enough, but hey...

i can't decide which i hate more lately, men or women, so might as well rape myself for comic relief, right? just completely violate myself, compromise myself, humiliate myself...

walk in there as just a pair of shoes.

it's june.

it's been four years.

my mother once told me on a birthday card, 'don't shoes on your puke'.

well, mama, i shoes'd on my puke.

long story, but i got out of jail, my body was in shock, and i puked all over myself. i wasn't even in my head enough to aim anything. but i was in a subway being stared at by mannequins who are bothered and disturbed by the slightest thing that's out of their ordinary little television world of repetition and security and nothing unknown... that stagnant plastic mold they live in.

you've smelled that before, haven't you? you know that smell, don't you?

tell me you know that smell. come on. i know you know it. you can remember the assembly line, think back. that plastic smell. pencil shavings. first grade classroom colouring books. playdoh and rubber cement. the air smells like construction paper, but the walls smell like sawdust.

synaesthesia.

conspiracineous. copernikus, cornelius, and isaac fuckin' newton.

smells, you moron. olfactory flags of memory.

do you have any fucking clue what i'm talking about?
keep your receipt, take the clue back, and get another one, just to make sure it's not defective, detective!

fuck!

i mean i could laugh right now, but i'd almost be insulting myself.
i'm the wrong writing this, remember?

look who i'm arguing with, though. the naysayer farm.

but i know you can smell that plastic.

it's june. it's been four years. my mother's dead.

the path infront of me is begging... pleading... yearning... reaching...

sucking... attracting... smiling... playing nice...

the tape is peeling off the mask, though...

memory flashes of that 'beware' sign...

the introductory story from nancy privett's 'stepping into the aquarian age'.

to ask yourself before you go hiking and camping; 'what don't i need?'.

i wish i could leave all my negative energy in a ditch and walk away from it.

but if i like it more than i like you, why does that answer disappoint you so much?

so i don't want to live your life, so fuckin' what? big loss, man, move on!

why do you want me living your life? what, you don't like the skirt? you don't get the statement? you don't understand the purpose? the fact that i refuse to look or act like any other male on this planet, just so i can be rejected by every female on this planet, just to watch her go fuck the next douchebag in shorts and flipflops? reminding myself that i know exactly what you ladies are looking for?

keep proving me right, ladies. don't even try to prove me wrong.

and by all means, be proud of yourselves. you deserve it.

my thoughts will never be worth one dollar on your planet. i get that.

but on my planet, delusions of grandeur are more valuable than truth. cause we have plenty of truth.

you never consider what's beyond the last step you ever take.

all that's relevant to you, are your steps in the sand.

but the universe is telling you... perfection isn't something you possess.

perfection is simply one of evolution's traits.

and seeing as how you don't even understand evolution, why do you claim that?

you've made a whole life out of being you.

i'm trying to make a career out of being a portion of me that's acceptable to you.

the necessary compromise is still on your side.

because if i compromise any more, i will literally be eating my own head. from behind. just to sell a product to the wrong consumer. because it's the only chance i get.

trying to shoot a carrot down moving rows of wooden trays, like a carnival game.

chinese puzzle boxes.
stereograms.
that spirograph thing.
legos.

think you understand my mind any better yet?
my intention?
my perspective?
my desires?

i'd love to hear your version of me.
i promise you, i won't be insulted.

you can't insult me any worse than i've already insulted myself. go ahead, try.

since this game's all about damage points, not repair.

i wish i could reverse reality in my own mind enough to change something in the air, and make someone finally walk up to me today, but today is not today, today is just an illusion outside of my head that i have no control over, contrary to what those stupid facebook memes will force you to believe. 'listen to the universe', yeah, no, i'm done listening to the universe tell me to shut up! your universe doesn't like me, it tells me i don't belong here, and there's nothing i can say to convey that to you, so what the fuck is the point? why is your argument always so much more valid than mine? what fucking contest are you trying to win here? i initiated the point, didn't i? but go ahead, win anyway, you competitive cunt. monopoly demon. i still own your end. i am your omega. deny me all you want. you'll find me someday, a little plastic package in the bottom of your cereal box labeled 'rapture'.

no better day than today.

my wife used to say, 'don't make fun of yourself', i said 'hunny, if you can't make fun of yourself, who can you make fun of?'.

you'd certainly have no advantage over these clones. that's truth you can find in stone.

you still think i'm precisely this stupid.

does your comprehension feel:

full?

or...

a high breeze? (hint: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A38YO3f2Bv4)

i just checked all my messages and sites and stuff. still not one response from another human.

still no responses.
still no comments.
still no emails.
still no texts.

whether you like it or not...
whether you justify it or not...
whether you understand it or not...
whether you agree or not...
whether you care or not...

i have my answer.

when you fuck a woman, a kid comes out.
when you traumatize a mind, this is what comes out.
when you eat a burger, a turd comes out.

chemical reactions. that's all this is.

my hatred for you has its own area code, zip code, mailbox, phone number, and tech support.
hell, we have our own costco.

you perfect fuck.
you flawless vagina.
you wealthy cunt.

you're all still failing to see the true enemy here.
if money is the root of all evil, then the wielder of that weapon... should be fired.

don't you think?

nevers and severs

no matter how intelligent i try to sound, i will never stop feeling like such a fucking loser!

supposed to think of shit. i forget what already. just talked to ben. i'm not worth his time.

i feel like i'll never be worthy of anyone's time. i feel like the trauma in my mind is keeping me from being me. and no one even understands it. i feel so dirty. so ugly.

the facts stand.

you ladies never approached me.

you ladies never said yes to me.

you ladies never initiated a conversation with me.

you ladies never took it any further.

you ladies never started anything.

for three years.

you were too scared to walk up to me.

you were too scared to talk to me.

you were too scared to touch me.

for three years.

there is no undoing that.

there is no healing that.

there is no excusing that.

there is no repairing that.

there is no disproving that.

it just is what it is. and it will never change.

this is what i deserved, apparently, from you ladies, who 'claim' to not be after just money, but to look for something else, but no, i'm officially calling bullshit.

you couldn't prove it to me, so your loss.

the facts speak for themselves. all you women want is money.

you should be ashamed of yourselves, but instead you walk around wearing shirts that say 'wild feminist', with your ass hanging out of trendy skintight pants, thinking you're special, thinking you're better than me, and having every excuse in the book...

once in a while, we get one of those people, who speak the truth so loudly, so bluntly, that society comments on it, by saying things like 'he tells it like it is', and 'he holds nothing back', and 'he hits you with the truth you're not willing to admit, and no one else is brave enough to say'. shit like that. well, benjamin franklin also said, 'god forbid this country go twenty years without a revolution.

seems to me like we need more than one revolution.

we need multiple simultaneous revolutions, so that even if one fails, the others succeed at taking up the airwaves too much for anyone to know that one failed, so it can still succeed... get it?

we need a revolution against millennials. fuck you, and fuck your term. you don't even deserve your own generation yet, you're too fuckin' lazy and spoiled by rich parents, how the fuck do you get your own generation name before 'nu-metal' even gets labeled properly? how the fuck is that right?

yeah, no, you've gotten to whine and have it your way too fuckin' long now.

start a revolution against millennials. start a revolution against feminists. start a revolution against all women. start a revolution against those douchebag guys that wear flipflops and shorts. start a revolution against those douchebags who spend more than a hundred bucks on a haircut when their hair is shorter than mine. start a revolution against every male wearing pants. every dominant alphamale monkey mutherfucker with a badge. every bald white asshole. and everyone who's into 'popular' music. fuck you all. grow some balls. pussies.

i'm a mutherfuckin' metalhead. and you think you're better than me because you're too weak to even listen to it! fucking celebrate yourselves! let's get the fucking party started!

start a revolution against the masses. and start a war against the rich.

interview everyone, ask them two questions:

a: what do you know about homelessness?

b: why do you think we should start a war against the rich?

bonus question: do you think you're in denial?

song just came on... machine head, kick you when you're down.

kick you when you're down.

and you women.

you women who won't even look at me.

you cowards who won't stop and say hello.

i am better than you.

it is not you who are out of my league, but i who am out of your league.

i'm literally too intelligent to legally date you.

i'm too brave and you're too much of a coward.

i'm too much of a metalhead, and you can't even handle... fuckin' hanson is too heavy for you!

mmmbop my cock, sweetheart, let's see how brave you are right now.

i didn't want excuses, i wanted a fucking blowjob!

you act like they're still taboo.

no, hunny, you're taboo.

and your fears are just humiliating.

this human virus on the surface of this neuron.

like a delusion on the surface of your eye.

you want to keep bitching about how men demean you...

then i ask, does rap music demean you?

and do you demean yourselves with fears, excuses, and inhibitions more than rap music does?

oh, sorry, sweetie, the correct answer was yes. and yes.

see, you're perpetuating 'no' and 'fuck no', but i'm fighting back with positivity.

hence the yes...

and my lack of fear to say it.

which proves i'm better than you.

i'm out of your league.

you selfish spoiled selfjustifying cuntcracks.

anything to justify yourself.

anything to deny me.

anything to stay in your comfortable world.

'this guy wants to end the way we live, oh my lord!'.

you think god would be that fond of that little statement of yours?

you think people who hate you and don't agree that you should have all this luxury to yourselves, do you think they might hate the weakness in that statement of yours?

you think they might detest you?

might they have a reason to?

you think they might be disturbed by you?

see, that's the thing about you. that's exactly the thing about you.

the reason you don't belong here.

and it's as simple as this. so pay attention.

if someone has every reason to hate you...

and they tell you those reasons...

and you remain in denial...

thinking you're perfect...

don't you think those reasons to hate you would get heavier?

don't you think those reasons to hate you would be more justified?

no.

see, you can't afford to think that way, which is why your society should be destroyed.

that's exactly why you should be destroyed.

because you think you belong here more than us.

while you've walked on us for so long...

we've lined your streets with our golden bones for too long...

we've pampered you, babied you, changed your diapers...

fed you, clothed you, housed you, driven you...

sacrificed ourselves for you...

fought your wars...

won your land...

traded our blood for your dollars...

bathed in your lies...

soaked in our tears...

slept in our dreams...

and still you stand.

but so do the facts.

like the fact that you went three years without noticing me.

while i tapped and danced on street corners for your attention.

you ignored me, rejected me, alienated me...

and you think that's okay.

you can't even contemplate the consequences.

and you're secure that you have enough money to buy your way out of it.

you disgust me.

i never want to be you.

i just want to see the end of you.

a day without you.

a party without your excuses.

a gathering without your fears.

a celebration without your alcohol.

an orgy without your clothing.

a forest without your concrete.

an existence without your credit card.

right now, there are these two girls sitting infront of me, talking about girl shit, in starfucks, with their drinks, and trying eachother's drinks, and giggling about shit.

'you expect us to just look at you without you even making an attempt to get our attention?'

gee, what would life be like if you expected the same thing, cause i actually did it.

what would life be like without any double standards?

what would life be like if females didn't have mouths?

what would life be like, if all a woman could do to express any interest in you, is fucking look at you, without a storefront of excuses between their eyes and yours.

what would life be like, if clothing didn't exist?

what chemical mixture is necessary in this human consciousness to get females to approach males?

what change is necessary for women to take the lead toward spreading love?

what would we have to change for females to be more brave than males?

what would have to be changed, for ninety percent of humans to mature, to grow the fuck up, to stop insisting that they're grown enough, and more mature than me, but to just admit it, accept it, and grow the fuck up, without any whining and complaints and bitching and crying.

ladies, what price could we pay you...

what could we build for you that we haven't already...

what would we have to do for you...

to inspire you to just pick up your fucking balls, grow the fuck up, and stop bitching!

what would we have to do, to make you the more mature sex?

what the fuck would we have to do to put the word sex back into your vocabulary?

you say you like sex...

but then i hear the way you describe men...

and the men you're describing...

and i wonder if you can see the oxymoron between the two.

you'd pick mister wallet before you'd pick me.

you'd pick mister shorts and flipflops before you'd pick me.

and you fucking know it.

so... what makes you better than me?

what was it again, that made you better than me?

can you intelligebize an answer?

or just cough up and regurgitate more excuses?

fuck feminists.

like you need any more excuses to keep whining about shit...

like you need anything more to whine about.

you could have changed something. but all you do is bitch about an equality you know nothing of.

you want equality with a creature that rapes, kills, eats, and shits.

what does that say about you.

you should be bravely being the exact opposite, and instead of bitching about 'he raped me', stab the fucker yourself, so you can't use that excuse on the next guy.

you want to keep bitching about all the damage we've done to you...

well...

what about all the damage you ladies have done to us men?

hmm?

come on ladies, don't go silent on me now, i know there's no cock in your mouth.

be brave. speak. and say something before all the men jump in.

cause i know, i see the heartbroken men on the sidelines, waiting to throw the biggest balls.

this is a cute little game of dodgeball we're playing here, you get the sparkly shoes.

but you better start spitting out some answers before those dudes toss some balls at you.

what, you don't see the pool of tears they're standing in?

you can't see the blood dripping from their hearts?

oh, i've got a personal damage list all my own.

see, three years of rejection, and if you look back just a bit, you can see, mother of my children sold my kids to cps like a back alley drug deal... see all that?

it's time the feminist terrorist organization... and peta... take responsibility for their terrorist attacks.

don't you, guys?

oh, i forgot, those guys don't have the balls to agree with me, cause you ladies had spaghetti the other night, oops.

oh, and that's another thing, ladies. i'm fuckin' sick of spaghetti.

oh, and i just remembered one other thing.

no one's ever going to fucking read this!

no one's ever going to fucking give a shit!

you're all too good for this!

i hope you get shaved off the earth like a handlebar mustache in a schick razor commercial.

hey man, i'm gonna fuck this shit up

no fear, no compromise, i want it all

i will never be afraid, i'll die for what i believe

all of you assholes can stay rotting here

i do not care, i will not be there

i have got to save myself, don't tell me there's no one else

and all you are is all you are

i'm so sorry for you, so sorry

so all hail the new flesh

because it suits me fine.

...

and that's a bonus little factoid about me for people who ever want to know the real me...

if you don't know what the fuel is, to get me, your friend, turned on and into action mode...

if you need to know what my fuel is, so you can get the party started...

if you've got a spotlight on me, but you're hearing crickets, and you can't shout 'action'...

if you don't yet know what my fuel is, and you need to figure it out quick...

if you have the time to read my blog, and make the effort to be my friend...

if you can find this particular post, and scroll all the way down to the bottom...

then you'll see, that the only fuel you'll ever need to spark me up, turn me on, tune me in...

it's going to astonish you how simple this is, and that you couldn't think of it.

but here it is... ready? you ready to know what my fuel is?

are you? are you seriously?

cause i know i'm just talking to a one way blog...

do you really want to know what my fuel is?

okay, drumroll...

strapping young lad. city. nineteen ninety seven.

that's all you need to know.

i'll say that one more time, incase you missed it...

if the show's about to start, but you can't find the star...

as soon as i hear that alarm clock...

you dig?

now, once you've grown the balls required to stick that in your own ear...

then we can have an actual party.

till then, put out or get out.

yes, i'm this much of an asshole.

the feminists need something to balance the equation.

and the women who will never look at me...

'zero fucks given'... otep.

the more you justify yourselves, the more i say 'fuck you'.

the more you justify yourselves, the bigger an asshole i become.

you're the one who said 'gross' when we showed you our cocks, sweetheart.

we called your bodies art.

you called our bodies crime.

that's why i'm starting 'citizens offering crucial knowledge'.

you'll get it. eventually.

though i have no faith.

this goody twoshoes prissy little fuckin' twat just walked past me.

you're my biggest enemy. i hope you all die, i seriously do. i hate you more than rap.

you're so perfect.
you're so beautiful.
the perfect clothes.
the perfect hair.
the perfect skin.

and never looking in my hideous direction.

you deserve to die. that's all you deserve.
i hope you die before all the cops do.
i hope there's a list, and you all go in the order you hurt us.
like animals getting on an ark.

acts of random kindness.

get all the cancers and viruses into that volcano, and don't forget to flush.

oh, i keep forgetting, you can't understand what a nihilist thinks. ha! well shit.

i have to remind myself, you love this world so much, you couldn't possibly see why it should be swallowed by a black hole. you think the black hole is just as sentimental as you?

yeah, thanks ladies, for such a wonderful night!

i hope you're worth every dime.

those fuckin' females...
the pampered kind...
the perfect kind...

how the fuck do you exist?

i hope homeless men puke on you frequently. i truly do.

eat another heart, you demon cunt.

oh, yeah, that was the thing i thought of after jail.

a band name.

demonicunt trolls.

haha. that's a fuckin' good metal band name if i ever heard one.

on my list of favourites, it's right up there next to strapping young lad and meshuggah.

oh, i have to keep reminding myself... NO ONE FUCKING KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT ME!!! HAHAHAHA!!! HOW COULD I FORGET THAT!!! THEY CALL ME LAZY, BUT THEY WON'T MAKE THE EFFORT TO GET TO KNOW ME, EVEN IF IT MEANS READING MY FUCKING BLOG, NO, THEY'D RATHER HAVE ME REPEAT MYSELF DAILY, AND THEN TELL ME I'M NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! GOD'S WORST JOKE!!!

so, yeah, you know... irony has a bank account.

fuck yourselves.

the prettier you are, the weaker you are, and the sooner you die.

fuckin' females.

cowards.
pussies.

you know the vagina is intended for reproduction, right?
not as a reward for wearing the right suit...
not as a bank plecostomus...

a virus that thinks itself more than a virus... hmm...
if anyone has delusions of grandeur, it's you.

i'm the grandeur, you're the delusion.

go figure.

...
well, it's five forty. i was done writing, about to shut down, but looked outside, it's still raining like the future of grass depends on it.

i fucking hate this planet.
i fucking hate this life.

so, how can i fill up another hour when there's absolutely nothing i want to do.

i've got a knife, and no kevlar over my heart.
i've got shit to smoke, but can't smoke in the rain.
i've got an umbrella, but it won't behave like an umbrella should.
i've got fingers, but that's about as useless as having a stump dick on a string pulling minions out of a claw machine...

i want to die.
i just want to fucking die.
i do not want to live this life anymore.
i'm more done with it than it is with me.
i give up every night.
i lose all hope.
i can't even cry anymore.
my heart just caves in.
dives into the concrete.
plummets like it's escaping to japan.

no time for you.
time alone.
this time i think i've found it.
goodbye, my love.
it came for me.
i'm going back to japan.

take your worthless, loveless, coward vaginas the fuck away from me.
you cover them with fears, and stuff them full of inhibitions like turkeys on thanksgiving.

but there's no thanks to be given.

you gave no fuck...
we gives no thanks.

fuck you, ladies.

what my cock is worth, your pussy owes, thus you're the debt, and i'm the surplus.

get it?

boy, nothin' i say is making sex more of a possibility in your mind, is it?

that's what we call a stalemate.

all puns intended. all double meanings, all double entendres, all double sided dildos, all double standards, all double negatives, and every other aspect of satire.

your mold is stale.

ever hear of a douche?

and hey, it's summer! it's effectively mating season! haha!

eat yourselves, you cunts!

it's almost six pm. still raining. i might as well just go out and smoke and get soaked. at this point, it would be better than sitting in starfucks past my cooking alarm.

film trendy millennial people walking into starfucks, and have soggy noodles walk out.

don't forget the straws in their mouths.

and cut.

you define this

just went out to try to smoke. it's raining. got kicked out of two doorways. had some other homeless guy ask me for weed. another one sold me a dollar joint. seems like they could have made great friends without me. so i had to sit in the park and try to finish smoking. almost broke my pipe, lost a bowl of weed, got soaked. and it's too much to ask for my umbrella to stay still while i try to smoke! it's too much to ask for a fucking friend! i'm not allowed to have a reliable fucking friend. i don't deserve any fucking friends! i'm not allowed to have a good time on this pathetic fucking planet, while you all have a wonderful time, i'm sure it was agreed upon before i was born, 'let's all have a great fucking time, but not that guy. don't let that guy relax for one minute'. while your whiny children get all the relaxation they desire. you're all spoiled, you're wearing the wrong fucking clothing, filling your heads with the wrong fucking beliefs, and molding it in concrete with the wrong fucking drugs! and i wonder why i can't find a fucking friend! why the fuck did i just spend an hour and a half outside trying to smoke a fucking bowl! why! why do i fucking talk to people! i should have put a knife through my fucking heart by now! my mind fucking hates me! and no one understands me! they can't even make the fucking effort! a whole fucking society of clones who are too scared of me to buy what i'm selling, and little would they ever know, i'm not fucking selling anything! wake the fuck up! i should not have been born for another thousand fucking years! i fucking hate you all! you're all wastes of life! it's like i'm seeing my dead ancestors stumble through their haze days. why celebrate yourselves? you're just preempting something better.

you kick homeless people when they're down.

i hate this fucking life

monday morning. woke up hateful, having to deal with this stupid body whining. i tried to smoke, but couldn't because my stupid body wouldn't leave me alone, so i tried to get a small seven eleven breakfast. chocolate milk and an apple danish. couldn't even stomach that. even my hair is being fucking retarded today. sat in the park by safeway and ate the breakfast. came up to starfucks and used their restroom, then finished my cigarette. then came back in and plugged in. they were playing billy jean. i can't even fucking type today, my stupid fingers keep missing letters. and the period. even when i was trying to handwrite in jail, my stupid brain keeps missing letters in the middle of words. my neck won't stop hurting and needing to pop, it's just getting worse, and no one gives a fuck. always expecting more lively and enthusiastic reactions from people, all i can hear is my mom saying 'you're asking too much from people, you're expecting too much', and 'you'll never have anyone to rely on or depend on'. thanks, mom. even dying doesn't make you wrong. but anyway, they were playing billy jean, which of course made me think of sean strip dancing to billy jean. which... i'm the only fucking person that remembers that anymore. all the rest of my highschool friends that were there, now they're too fuckin' stupid to care. they always were too fucking stupid. i still ask myself, constantly, why the fuck did i waste so many years with the wrong fucking people. the wrong fucking people. the most wrong fucking people on this planet, they had to be my highschool friends, why! no, mom, i'm not lowering my standards, there should be standards for how friends treat eachother. i fucking hate this life. being so goddamned alone. why is it that not one woman on this pathetic fucking planet can take the time out of their busy selfish day to get to know me. why can't anyone give a fuck. saturday night, klarity was supposed to come by, and of course, never showed up. if i had someone to bet when i felt like someone was going to show or not, i would be fucking rich. 'bet you twenty bucks they're not gonna show'. but no one's ever there in the first fucking place. but saturday night, both klarity and mike were supposed to come by, and neither ever showed. i fucking hate myself. so... breakfast, restroom, billy jean... i hate my fucking life. this constant chest pain, stomach pain, back pain, neck pain, why must i always be in this much fucking pain, and can't even get a doctor to give a fuck. god, i fucking hate this life so much. it will never get any better. no one will ever give a fuck about me. and goddamnit, fingers, stop fucking missing fucking letters! act like you've done this shit before! goddamnit! it's too much to ask! if i'm pulling a thread off my glove, it's too much to ask for the thread to eventually shorten, it'll just keep pulling! and if i'm expecting the fold of toilet paper to stay on my knee while i'm doing this, that's asking too fucking much from physics, i'm expecting too much, i'm expecting the world to accommodate me while i whine like they do, or at least that's what they all have to tell me daily as if i've forgotten it, or haven't thought of it yet. it's society's policy that i have to be just as stupid as the rest of you, but if i call you uneducated, you're insulted, and then you start throwing insults like we just reached that part of the reality show game... could anyone grow the fuck up please. what part of 'i'm trying to accomplish something' do you fail to understand. consistently. like it's fun. i don't know what to do on my computer anymore. cause there's fucking no one to do it with. i can't even listen to my music anymore. it's fucking boring without anyone to play it for, and the fact that there haven't been any good new albums for about five years now... not a fucking one of my metal bands has released a good album in five years at least. machine head, in this moment, deftones, soilwork, in flames, within temptation... why are all of you sucking so much! trump's in office, we should be having the best metal records in thirty years, the best time to write, the most inspiration and anger to be grasped and morphed into art, what the fuck are you doing? despite the fact that music has never really gone the way i wanted it to. i kept wanting more records like deep purple's machine head, or black sabbath's sabotage, i've been waiting forty fuckin' years now, and i still haven't gotten anything like that. you're all still trying to hard to get on the radio, to be played on radio stations, to get radio air play... why! need i remind you, we're metal! we don't cower to the radio, we don't praise the radio, we don't bow to the radio... am i the only human alive who thinks metalheads should never say 'yes sir'? what the fuck is going on here? and the fact that you all ignore me! this is a wonderful fucking world! it's owned by you!

goddamnit... sorry... trying to start that over. starfucks... i'm sick of being so fucking lonely, so ignored by everyone. who the fuck else can i email for help? i swear to christ, i've already emailed seven billion people.

i just wanted a fuckin' friend.

more than that, i just wanted to pursue a fuckin' dream.

but i was never allowed.

i'm not worth your time.

..............................................................

fuck it.

Relectioneering

What i think we should do from now on as far as electing presidents goes.

We make a reality show out of it.

Get three candidates, one representing each party.

Each candidate gets a one month trial run, with full control as president. They get to write out their plans and pick their staff, and have everything ready for their month.

Whatever things you're able to change, whatever funding or contributions are sent into your campaign box, whether digitally or physically, and however happy you make the country, both the party you represent, and the others, digitally track and count how many votes you get at the end, and see more publicly who wins.

Voters can either lock in an early vote, or have a "leaning choice", or even a "sway choice", or just wait till the very end to vote, but to count as an official vote, you need to identify yourself in some way that's verified publicly. Like video or something.

A leaning choice means you've most likely made your choice, but still observing the race, thinking you might lean another way from the performances.

A sway choice is more like standing individually, rather than leaning toward one candidate. You've made much less of a choice, and you're waiting to see the performances. Meaning, depending on how the race goes, you could sway one way or another. But as far as a starting choice to empower your political party, you can stand with your group, i.e. affiliate yourself with your party, but not the candidate.

The screens during the show, display all the information, results, and voters, as well as statistics, graphs, and live updates on their campaign achievements. If problems are being fixed locally, and the people in your country are happy, that's one category of success. If you're not causing chaos and destruction around the world, that's success in another category. If chaos and destruction are happening in your country because of people from elsewhere, and you're defending us like a videogame superhero, that's success in a third category.

Your goal locally, is to keep us safe, happy, equal enough to keep tantrums to a minimum, and educated.

As far as negativity goes locally, you need to figure out what people are pissed off about, why they're choosing to behave that way, what's causing this reaction, which isn't hard to do in a month if you make all the people in the jails and legal system do their jobs like it's a contest. You figure out what the cause of the negativity is, and you make your best attempt to to improve it.

You shouldn't base more relevance on a voter's choice because of financial status, or anything else really, but if you do, it should really only be their intellectual value.

You shouldn't base more relevance on a candidate's performance because of financial status, or anything else, except the success of how happy the majority of your country is. If everyone is fed, educated, smiling, satisfied, satiated, and not complaining... You win.

But the graphs... You cannot let one of the categories lack. You can't have rich stupid people.

Education is just as important as economic balance, and both of them are just as important as nutrition and all other factors leading to overall individual and collective happiness. If someone's personal goals in life are to hate people, walk around naked, and beg for food, let them be. However, if that same person is physically harming anyone or stealing, or being completely insane and hateful while inhabiting a political position, or shit that affects others badly... Make better decisions!

There is a massive universe of difference between a rich white guy shooting a poor person, and a poor black dude shooting a rich white lady. Just like there's an equally massive universe of difference between a grown woman seeing a naked man in public and calling the cops on that crime, and naked feminists being seen as art, and a rich rapist that gets away with his crimes because he knows people, and inherently bad people physically harming disabled people... Do you see what i'm saying there? Crimes that physically harm people are drastically different from crimes involving nudity. Nudity is not a crime. Dragging your pants on the ground should be. Around your ankles around your knees, either pull them up or take them off. It's bad enough i have to hear your music constantly.

confusion intrusion

well... today was friday. all i had to do was talk to my lawyer. i woke up and ate breakfast. cereal. used the safeway restroom. talked to klarity before getting on the bus. i assumed she was bothered by the fact that i tried to pressure her into smoking weed, which made me feel like some drug addict loser. or that it could have been that she's still hung up on her idiot boyfriend and scared to change anything or take a chance on someone better, which makes me feel inferior. but she said she wasn't bothered by any of that. she said the thing that bothered her most, was when she walked away, that's when i looked the most sad. i always look sad and feel disappointed when women leave. so she says 'so i guess it is just a guy thing, then'. i felt like saying, if you're going to think it's 'just a guy thing', then please don't consider me a guy. i claim no allegiance to either side of the room, and i wish someone could understand that about me. i'm not like those other douchebags you ladies date. i try to make that as obvious as possible, but you ladies are just gonna have to figure that out, get a clue.

they keep making me feel like, since i don't agree with society, then i must only be thinking of myself, and being a selfish person who doesn't pay taxes or do for others isn't wanted on this planet, and... if that's the case... in my perspective, i should be the only human allowed here! would the people who are most selfish and greedy please stop accusing me of being selfish just because i don't agree with your society! i'm sick of pointing fingers, leave me the fuck alone already! stop actively rejecting me, and fuck off already! you still think i don't get it, but it's you who's not getting it!

i'm fed up with society and their cloning policy.
i'm fed up with females and their paranoid excuses.
i'm fed up with males and their phallic steroid rage.
i seriously don't fucking belong here.

if you really think that i'm only thinking of myself, and completely detached from society, then ask yourself, who else is trying to solve homelessness?

or am i not allowed to be that person?

if you won't allow anyone to work that job, then... you just get to keep stomping on bums?

so i get on the bus. i held back saying something when i walked away from klarity. i wanted to say 'i'd rather be alone, than keep being rejected and hurt', but i realized they were basically the same thing. one just means trying less. giving up.

you ladies wonder why i'm so negative, and you see it backward, you love to see the cart before the horse, the egg before the chicken, the insanity before the logic... you see it as 'because i'm so negative, that's why ladies don't stick around'... but i've been trying to tell you, it's because ladies don't stick around, that i'm so negative. one is influencing the other, and you're seeing it backward. it's not my fault you have fears and excuses. it's not my fault you have inhibitions and restrictions. it's not my fault you all date douchebags and think that's what a man should be. it's not my fault men have listened to you, and that's why they're walking around in shorts and flipflops, walking dogs on leashes, with expensive haircuts that look like something you'd pull out of a cereal box. empty brain accessories to match the stupid clothing that cover the layers of fear...

ladies, it's not my fault you fear me.

if only you could understand, i do not possess the same fears.

this is what happens when a guy gets rejected every day for three years straight.

i'll repeat that, in case you don't feel the weight of that statement.

this is what happens when a guy gets rejected every day for three years straight.

i'm never going to be one of society's prized shiny happy people. not for you. not for anyone.

the way i see it, there's nothing to celebrate. not even myself. there's too much work to be done.

there's too much to be disappointed in.

so if it bothers you that i look disappointed when you walk away from me... i'll give you three guesses what the solution is for that. door number one, door number two, door number three.

door number one involves nudity. door number two leads right back here. and door number three has a puppy, a credit card, and car keys. hmm...

anyway. i got on the bus, got downtown three hours early. appointment wasn't till eleven, i got there around eight. so i walked up and got weed, sat for a while, watched a tool concert on my phone.

talking to my lawyer about the intellectually suffocating legal system... made me feel even more like a useless alien than i usually do. that i really have nothing to offer this world. they want what they want, and they certainly do not want me.

so... after i left, i took the bus back to capitol hill, and talked to dana for a bit. told her how i was feeling after that encounter. they never seem to have any answer or solution, even though all it would take, is rendering less space between the flesh around you, and the flesh around me, but we just can't get over the fears and excuses, and let go of ourselves enough. so i left there, went to seven eleven, got a sandwich and chocolate milk, ate it on the way to starfucks, thinking about shit that started on the bus ride back to capitol hill. and i had two distinct thoughts.

one was, i could write a song... verse one, a comparison of you and me. verse two describes the state of the world around us. verse three states all the reasons we fear change. and the choruses just say in different ways, 'we don't have to be this way, we don't have to act this way, we don't have to live out these roles, we can live a different us every day of our lives', and have every repeat of that chorus part be in a different genre of music, sang in a different style. a rapper sings one chorus, a popstar sings another, a country singer does another, a bluegrass singer, jazz, blues, until every genre of music has been played, and then, by the end of the song, say more like 'all these layers of pride we hold up, all the 'this is who i am' excuses, living the same life every day', and finally end it by saying a lot clearer, with a more human voice, less singsong, say 'because i don't even have to be me'.

but by the time i got to the starfucks and got sat down, both ideas left my head, and so did the motivation to write them.

the other idea, was pretty much this, but it made more sense, and not so fragmented and confused. it consisted partially of the explanation i have to offer too many people, about how i'm never going to be one of those constantly shiny happy people they're wanting.

i'm sick of small talk.
i'm sick of being asked how i'm doing.
i'm sick of repeating myself.
i'm sick of never being heard.
i'm sick of women saying no.

if you saw me in a magazine like playgirl...
my wrinkly little body in the centerfold...
if you looked at the back of that page, where it lists my turn ons and turn offs...
turn ons: utopia, fearlessness, psychedelics, intellect, fascination, passion, emotion, talking about the future, and a spectacular lack of excuses.

and the first turn off listed would be...

turn offs: women saying no, fears, excuses, inhibitions, boring legal talk, religion, superstitions, traditions, paranoias, and people who say 'i'm proud of my heritage', patriotism, money, greed, selfishness, coffee drinkers and dog walkers, consumers, capitalists, fascists, clones, cops, concrete, credit cards, construction workers... do i have to go on?

is anyone starting to see the world i'm picturing yet?

does anyone give a shit?

am i completely unnecessary on this planet at this time?

because if so, i have no problem coming back in a thousand years, when you get your shit together.

if you don't want my help, just say so. grow some balls, spit it out, overnight the nuclear insults...

and you can enjoy your world without me.

the second idea, was intended to very simply describe utopia. to clearly state that i would rather evolve than me chained down by your excuses...

every sentence i try to force out of my mouth anymore... i've got twenty different ways i could be phrasing it, all trying to come out at once. every word has a stack of synonyms behind it, all trying to stumble out on top of it. and i've also got twenty other unrelated things i could be saying at that moment. i've got twenty other versions of me i could be at any moment. but i look around me, and all i see is clone number one trying to act like clone number two, and clone number two trying to dress like clone number three, and clone number three trying to talk like clone number one, because clone number one is fresh off the assembly line, clone number two has the latest fashion sense, and clone number three has a drug problem, but all three of them, i can see the barcode where their soul should be, and i can't communicate that to anyone. it just doesn't convey.

so what are they thinking in their heads?

that i'm completely detached, and don't know what i'm talking about?
that their society is completely justified and incapable of being corrupt?
that i'm really not necessary here?

where would i belong more? sweden? amsterdam? norway?

i've had enough friends walk away to learn my lesson.

if you can't accept me as i am, it's you who's losing me, not the other way around.

you can debate that all you want, but you won't change my truth.

you can think that i have nothing to offer my fellow humans.
you can think that i hate everyone.
you can go on thinking you're better than me.

it will never compromise my perspective against you.

there are so many reasons i stand against you.
the fact that you can't figure out why i oppose you, is one of them.

get a clue.
they're not expensive.

dial one eight hundred get a clue. get a clue dot com.
order now and get two for the price of one.
sale ends on national rapture day.

is this not hell?

at two am, on april twenty seventh, i was woken up by a security guard banging his stick on the pole next to my head. so, to get him to shut up and fuck off, i threatened to kill him. i picked up my shit, and started walking up the hill. the night before, everything was telling me not to be downtown again. the cops took me to jail, where they kept me in hell for a month. they let me out thursday at five pm, so i couldn't get the rest of my stuff. i had to change outside the jail back into my clothes, and it was like this transformation, i didn't feel like myself for about ten minutes after. but i had my phone with no charge on it, and my wallet. i went to the smoke shop on first, then seven eleven where i got a sandwich, water, and chocolate milk, then to the weed store in belltown... when they let me out, they gave me both coats from when they took me a month before, so i was already overheating by the time i got to belltown. but i got weed, then walked back downtown trying to think of what to do next. i puked up the sandwich and chocolate milk, got an extreme full body cramp, had to sit on a corner for half an hour trying to relax my legs enough to stand, couldn't find anyone, or anywhere to charge, had to buy a cheap seven eleven charging base, but everywhere was closing, so i used the one bus ticket in my wallet to take the eight up toward capitol hill, but couldn't even keep sitting on the bus because i was so nauseous, so i got off around broadway, where there's a starbucks and a little alteration shop, sat there for about an hour, could barely walk into the starbucks, got a hot chocolate, and walked the rest of the way up the hill to fifteenth, walked around all night till i ran into mike finally, but he's not much support, bought him a cheap phone the next morning, we took the bus down to get my stuff, since then, i haven't seen him much. i got him the phone so i could get ahold of him, so he could help me, because i haven't learned from that mistake enough times yet.

that weekend, i don't even remember what i did. but i know it was miserable. all three days of it. twosday was hell... whensday, the second anniversary of my mother's death. may thirty first. timothy leary died on the same day, in nineteen ninety six. i left hell and started traveling on that day in twenty fourteen. on may sixth, twenty sixteen, i got back to seattle from los angeles. the hell i had been through in that amount of time is nothing... wasn't even preparation for spending a month in jail, alone, no one giving a fuck about you, and wondering when you get out if there might be any messages on your phone, only to find, in fact, there aren't. of course there weren't. you knew there wouldn't be. no one gives a fluffy rainbow fuck about you. but... whensday, i went and found joe. i got a new case from goodwill, for seven bucks. packed my shit into it, left the big brown one, got back to capitol hill that night, and slept in the teriyaki doorway. woke up that morning, and something told me, the second i became conscious, look at the case. of course, it wasn't there. a week after getting out of jail, half my shit gets stolen. my bluetooth speaker... again... the carton of smokes i just bought, and my other coat. the fur coat. papers. beanies. so i woke up friday morning with just my sleeping bag and laptop bag. i went to reach and got my packages, went to target, bought a new speaker, and got a bus to a motel, where i've spent the last three nights. it's nine forty seven am, sunday morning, and i'm about to leave, and i don't even know where to go. my neck hurts so bad, that making decisions is hopeless.

i need to find somewhere new to sleep. and i need... i'm sick of asking for help.

just enjoy being by yourself.

enjoy it. do your own thing, and fuck everyone else.

they were never going to be there for you.

you've got bus money. you've lightened your load. you remember what jail told you.

don't rely on anyone else. can't depend on anyone else.

monday, between the required shit, find writers. ask questions.

fuck the life you wanted.

hopeless

i hate my life so much. i'm so sick of being so alone. so ignored. so rejected. so alienated, isolated. i don't even have the courage to talk to females anymore. every time i've asked in the last three years, the answer has been no. i really don't understand why one of them can't just say yes. to anything.

it just proves to me, that all they want is a free ride. they want money more than you.

they're more concerned with 'what they get', than you. 'what do i get out of it'.

they're more concerned with money and products and consumption, than their fellow human.

which coats this world in such a cold plastic hatred. fake.

what do i have to do to just be touched. to have a lady spend a day with me.

what do i have to be worth, to get a lady to approach me. why the fuck don't they care.

why can't i find just one female who does care. does it have to be this cold.

i keep seeing all this 'wild feminist' bullshit, 'pussy power', and 'the future is female'.

my future isn't female. my future is lonely, hopeless, miserable. empty. and fuck your wild feminist horseshit. it's just more of an excuse for you to wear less clothing, while i have to cover my ugly ass and keep it from the cops like a fucking fugitive. in a town where public nudity is legal, by the way.

i've been wanting to take a picture... though, another thing i can't do alone. and finding anyone to help me, who isn't that offended by my ugly ass... fuck it, i can't even conceive a thought anymore without getting immediately hopeless. what the fuck is the point.

get a sharpie and write 'it's not fair that you're hot and i'm not' on my butt cheeks, take a picture of it, post it on instagram. keep doing those. bring up every point of why it's not fair that women get everything they want, and men are fucking prisoners in their own minds because of you fucking loveless, excuse driven, coward women. every excuse in the book to not touch me.

ladies, i get why you hate men. but it's not my fault you had to choose the worst douchebags on the planet to date, and then subsequently blame me for their crimes.

so if they're going to start doing their 'wild feminist' bullshit, i'm just going to start being a warhead misogynist. you cunts want to spread hatred instead of love, fine. just make sure you haven't underestimated your enemy. all i was asking for, this whole time, was love.

you couldn't be bothered. i had to be painfully alone this whole time.

and the most you can care is to look like 'it's not my problem', and walk away.

it's not fair that you get to wear skintight clothing, and i have to hide my ugliness.
it's not fair that you get to be called beautiful, paid for your lack of clothing.
it's not fair that if you're naked, it's beautiful, if i get naked, it's a crime.
it's not fair that you get everything you want, you get your way, and still bitch.
you still want more. you want 'equality', and you don't even know what that is.
and you certainly don't know what you're getting yourself into, asking for equality with something as disgusting and disturbing and sick and dark and evil as us.

i don't think it's equality you want.

i honestly think it's just that you want your own share of your own side of this pie.

that's fair. that would be completely reasonable to ask. in fact, i'm one of the few men who's appalled you haven't already had it. half of this earth should be yours.

but stop setting foot in my side, and demanding that i accommodate you. this is male territory, sweetie. there's blood here, shit over there, piss over here, cum over there... you sure you wanna be here? that's why we go to your place, isn't it? cause you're the neat freak? your place is always clean enough to brag about?

all that's on my side of this room, is pain.

and it's too much to ask for a female to help.

i would have donated myself in so many ways. to anyone. male or female.

if anyone wanted me.

i'm nothing like any of you.
i have no fears.
i have no excuses.
i have no inhibitions.
i yearn to be touched.
especially by strangers.

i like metal.
i like science.
i like comedy.

i don't like coffee.
i don't like alcohol.

there are so many things about this world i hate. so many things that are too popular.

like people who walk their dogs. how many people have to have dogs? i'm cat people.
or people who think flesh is a crime.
people who think flesh is a crime, but won't get drug addicts off their streets.
you're so quick to narc out a nudist, but leave those methheads to destroy the city.

i hope your hypocrisy chokes on itself. i really do.
i hope your cold hatred goes out of style soon.
i hope your fearful excuses have planned obsolescence.

i hope you get to feel this loneliness and rejection someday.
i hope you get to feel everything i feel.

i think about killing myself every night. every morning.
every time i look at a female.

you're so busy worrying about what you get...

that i've been counting the suicides you're responsible for.

all the broken, empty hearts. the tears. the nights.

all we're asking, is that you spread love around.
all we're asking, is that you stop fucking rich douchebags.
all we're asking, is that you find the lonely dudes.
all we're asking, is that you overlook our issues.
all we're asking, is that you heal our wounds.
all we're asking, is that you seek out guys who have been single for more than a year.

is that too much to ask?
is that too hard for you to do?
is that gonna cost you too much money?

i know you don't 'owe me anything'...

but what about the fact that my life was completely destroyed by a female.

a female who claimed no responsibility for the bombing of my life, unlike terrorists.

but not a fucking one of you can be human enough to pick up someone else's pieces.

after i left the mother of my children, with the wreckage of my life, i helped heal the love of my life, i helped heal her life, because she had just walked out of a childhood of torture and confusion. so i helped heal her life, her heart, her outlook on life. as untainted by this corrupt world as she was.

but after i lost her, i just got more pain. added on, layered over, suffocated.

yeah, those guys you dated were douchebags.

but when i look back on all the buildings... all the airplanes... all the beds, chairs, and stores we've built. and that none of that matters to you. you take it for granted. that store's just supposed to be here, don't bother thanking the person responsible for putting it here.

you women take everything for granted.
then you accuse us of the same.

we don't take shit for granted. you wanna know how i know that?

we still pay for prostitutes.

when the fuck have you paid for sex? you say no more than you offer payment.

i just don't deserve your attention, do i, ladies? i'm too much of an asshole, there are too many unknown variables, too many excuses, too many things to fear, too many reasons to not trust me, and too many reasons to walk away without even giving an effort to get to know me. because that douchebag you're with now is just so awesome. in his flipflops and shorts.

while you're taking comfort in being a dime a dozen...

i'm completely alienated trying to build something original and unique to get us out of this loveless mess you've put us in. this nightmare that couldn't possibly be your doing.

no, ladies are never to blame for anything. especially goatroach (aka: the mother of my children, aka: the gaping black whore hole i pulled my children out of, aka: the path of disaster that holds half my life).

i only got a year and a half with the love of my life, a young, brave woman who looked into my eyes with fascination. who loved my smell and my dirty hands.

she didn't need an excuse to not love me.

how many more days do i have to ache through?
how much longer do i have to be completely invisible?
how much longer must i be clothed alone?
how much longer till i find a female willing to go to a nude beach with me?
how much longer must i hurt?

ladies... i really didn't think i was asking that much.
it wasn't till you said 'women don't owe you anything' that i realized your intention.

i'm not even sure you're aware of your intention, the path you're driving toward.

but it's not love. it's just more separation, segregation, degradation, seclusion, and excuses to hate, fear, and close off. instead of taking your clothes off.

as if we needed more of that. don't you think men have already promoted that enough?

diversity is just a better synonym for 'pieces of a puzzle falling apart'.
i don't have much faith in diversity.
uncontrolled, immature, egotistical diversity is what made me.
just so you can reject me for being what i have to be.

i'm not asking for war.
i'm not asking for money.
i'm not asking for your house.
i'm not asking for your valuables.
i'm not asking for your excuses.
i'm not asking for hatred.
i'm not asking to be ignored.
i'm not asking to be rejected like it's fun.
i'm not asking for all the gold in the world.
i'm not asking for shit you can't give.

i'm just asking for a little love. a little physical contact.
someone to cuddle with at night, watch a movie with.
someone to watch my stuff when i have to leave it.
so i don't have to drag this stupid case around with me.
it's bad enough i'm dragging a corpse through the streets with me.
it's bad enough i'm a turd on toothpicks.

it's bad enough that i'm of no value or use to you.

but i don't think love is too much to ask for. nor should it ever have been.

i'm not asking for control of the world.
i'm not asking for the codes to your bank account.

i'm just asking for a little love.

question

how do you get clones to admit that they're clones?

hint: anyone who says 'you can't'... is a clone.

douchebags with money

fuckin' the bane of my existence on this wretched planet.

this pathetic plastic planet.

i can never seem to explain enough about me all at one time for people to actually understand anything about me, but i find these things also keep needing to be explained.

first of all. i'm sick of douchebag men staring at me. while your hot little side sluts can't even bare to look at me. i'll repeat that...

I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF MEN STARING AT ME!!!
LIKE I'M SOME SORT OF FREAK SHOW!!!

you're goddamn right i'm a freak.
i'm so glad i'm nothing like you.
i'll never have your douchebag haircut.
i'm so unlike you, it makes me cum.

did you hear that right?
do i need to repeat myself again?

i'm extremely proud to not be you. to be nothing like you. one of these miserable empty days, you'll have to understand that. whether i have to force it down your throat or not, you will comprehend.

only so many excuses to remain stupid.
and i'm watching the winds of evolution blow them over like dominoes.

whether your feeble mind can believe it or not, i can see the future. it doesn't take a psychic, it doesn't take a genius, it just takes a logical understanding of the chemical mixture around you, and its path of destruction and disaster behind you. i've said before, the more you understand the pathway behind you, the more it illuminates the way ahead. you morons won't understand that for another three generations, so don't strain yourselves, let your grandkids figure it out. they're already smarter than you anyway. you're just a consumer and that's all you'll ever be.

anyway.

i'm so sick of men staring at me.
why the fuck do so many men have to stare at me.

it's become apparent to me, that parents don't teach their stupid children not to stare these days... because the parents themselves were never taught not to stare. but they're adults, so their eyes are so imprisoned in this society, that you can see the fear shaking their eyes when they walk past me, trying not to look, not knowing what to think, trying to keep their eyes forward, trying to not be too awkward, when i'm the king of awkward. little do you idiots know, i'm laughing at you. it's appalling how dumb you are. i want to capture a ton of your idiocy on camera, i truly do. i want to write a book composed solely of the crap i hear you saying when you pass by me. i'm hoping people two thousand years from now can make some sort of... i don't know... montage? gonna make a montage!

so men... i know this is over your head, and you'll probly intentionally ignore it, or be a sarcastic, childish little bastard and do the exact opposite just to demonstrate how little respect you have for anything other than yourself, which, again, little do you know, we're already painfully aware of. like we need to be made any more aware of how disrespectful and stupid you are.

strange, my mom's words coming out of my mouth. obviously still needs to be said.

now, here's something else i can bet you a billion dollars you still don't understand. you're just not capable. which, you know... i could hire a scientist, a psychologist, and a fuckin' priest to prove it, but why would i need to. but let's see if you can fit this concept into your egotistical head.

i'm happy being homeless.
i'm comfortable not having a home.
i'd rather build my own than pay some douchebag for four walls.
i'm sick of your economy, your selfish monetary society.
i'm sick of your excuses of why it has to stay this way.
those excuses are only based off your fears, nothing else.
you have to realize that.

i am nowhere near as weak as you.
i am nowhere near as fragile as you.
certainly nowhere near as stupid.

you love to assume that homeless people are lazy.
you don't have the time to find out the real reasons we're homeless.
you don't care enough to ask our story.
you can't afford to take a moment to listen and care.

why the fuck would i want to be you.

a careless, apathetic, selfish fuck like you, why would i want to be that?

if you can't even fathom why we prefer being homeless...
in a society that charges twice what disability is for a room...

are you really that clueless, or is the clue just beyond your price range?

i'm happy being homeless.

i don't need four walls to make me appear as more of a man.
i don't need a job to be worthy of a woman's touch.
i don't need to comply with your society's rules.
i don't need to submit to your demands.

i certainly don't need to be anything like you. you're not that special.

see, i know that you think you're special because of what you've accomplished and how much you got paid for it, but the fact that you can't understand my perspective of that, goes to show everyone how uninformed you are.

but... i know how shocking this concept is to you...

i don't need your home.
i don't need your paycheck.
i don't need your jaguar.

i'm already a better person than you.
i don't need material shit to prove it.
i don't need the suit and tie and hundred dollar douchebag haircut.
i don't need your shiny shoes and shiny happy fake smile.

the fact that i don't need that shit to be better than you...
the fact that i'm resilient enough to live on the streets...
the fact that i've learned how to live off about ten bucks a day...

those are fucking testaments...
those are fucking totem poles of success above you...
those are the biggest, most natural reasons why i'm better than you.

i'm brave enough to lose a home and survive.
i'm brave enough to get the fuck out and travel.
i'm lazy enough to get off my ass and live life.

yeah, see? caught ya. you think i'm lazy because i'm standing on a freeway exit holding a cardboard sign. you see me there, i see not only the look in your eyes, but the words written on them, the fears, the inhibitions, the excuses, the hidden but boiling urge to ask something.

yes, of course i see you. do you think i'm fucking blind?

'all i sell is cardboard and ink'. ...a bum.

of the dichotomy...
of the volatile coexistence...
between homeless freedoms and employed slavery...
between fears and bravery, excuses and balls...
between you and i...
ask yourself...
who do you think is more blind?

the person who can't afford to see the truth?
or the person who can't afford not to see the truth?

the person who can afford every excuse in the book to not see the truth?
or the person who had the truth forced on them because of your excuses?

'america cannot see anything,
america can nazi anything'... the antichrist.

really. go ahead. give it your most honest answer.

cause i'm hearing john lennon's 'imagine' being played in starfucks right now, so i'm feeling a little extra evil today. if an 'antichrist' were to exist, don't you think he would be strong enough to oppose your christ? to destroy delusions? oh, but you don't think you were deceived. well, there's something to cry about. your god is about to die. apparently we didn't crucify him good enough the first time. this time, we'll make sure he stays dead. resurrection... what a fuckin' illusion. but you bought the book. a fictional story. that's not my fault. but i'll gladly take all the blame. i've got an arsenal i keep it in. got a joke for ya. two douchebags walk into starfucks. one makes it out alive.

this douchebag walked into starfucks a while ago, hot little side slut with him...
as soon as he comes in the door and around the corner where he can see me...

he fucking stares. won't take his eyes off me. for about thirty seconds. just staring at me with this puzzled moronic look on his face, not knowing what to think of me, but too distracted to formulate a thought, most like the children who pass by me and can't stop staring while the parents refuse to look. is there any explaining you? is there any defining your ignorance?

i pray for intelligence quotient standards.

anything below a two hundred has to go. a volcano awaits you. sorry. that's our policy.

but everything i've said in this blog post right here...
the fact that men can't stop staring at me while women refuse to look at me...
combined with the fact that i'm comfortable being homeless...
and how shocking those concepts are to you, mister paycheck...

it's all evidence that i'm actually better than you.

you're too much of a coward to leave your house and drop your wallet.

meanwhile you're calling me lazy.

i wanted to walk up to that douchebag with the faggy hundred dollar haircut, put my knife to his nose, and say...

i'm so sick of douchebag men like you staring at me like i'm some sort of freakshow, meanwhile your hot little side sluts aren't brave enough to look at me. am i that interesting to you? am i that disturbing to you? keep fucking staring at me, asshole. she'd be happier with me, and i don't need your money. i'm gonna take your lady on a date tonight, and if you make one move in my direction, i'll cut your throat out and feed it to a bum.

then, when i'd let the lady go, i'd be super cheery up until the last split second that she gets to see my eyes, and just before i turn away, get an angry, hopeless look in my eyes, turn and walk away, and start doing my ranting about how much i hate this planet. just take the latch off that nuclear reactor, and let it fly out. 'i hate this life, i hate you cowards, i want to die!'. stuff like that.

see if it triggers any reaction other than 'huh?'. which it never does. i have scientific proof.

they couldn't wonder anything if they could afford to.

fucking coward skanks and the douchebags they date.
what the fuck is wrong with you plastic fucking clones?

the fact that there's something called 'perfectpeople.com' on this sick planet, but i'm the only human puking on it... what does that tell you? no one else is sick? puking?

that's puzzling, cause i smell vomit everywhere. hmm.

at least i'm not a douchebag.
at least i'm not a fucking snob.

and i never wanted your fears.

but if those fearful eyes stare at me one more time, i'll be the last thing they see.

think i'm fuckin' around?
wanna keep fuckin' with me?

just give me one excuse...
these days, it won't take me much.

get this through your thick, rich, selfish fucking skull...

I AM NOT YOU!!!
I NEVER WILL BE!!!
I DON'T HAVE TO BE!!!
YOU'RE A DOUCHEBAG WITH A WALLET!!!
YOU'RE A FUCKING CHILD!!!

that's all you'll ever be.
your mother raised you wrong.
i have every reason and right to despise you.
you're a sick, evil, stupid, pathetic fucking creature.
go buy more fears and excuses.

you evolve nothing.

STOP FUCKING STARING!!!

removed from dot com

i wish people would stop implying that this is all my fault. read my blog at least before you judge. you're not helping the situation. as far as homelessness, something drastic and radical must be done, because politicians are greedy pussies. as far as my personal story, it's been online this whole time. i'm not as stupid as i look. stop assuming i don't already know this shit. and stop trying to convert me to the way society thinks. i'm homeless for a reason, i've disconnected from your society for a reason, possibly because it sucks, it's not as great as it looks, the american dream is obviously an unhealthy delusion, and i'm the walking, living, breathing fuckin' proof, so knock it off. i just might understand a little more about this shit than you do, did you ever consider that, are you even capable? what you don't know about me could swallow this solar system. for starters, i hate small talk and talking about the past. i hate hiphop lingo, and being called bro. had some illiterate, uneducated, low tech douchebag pass by me yesterday, i tried to stuff some knowledge in his brain, and at one point said 'it's not my fault i can't find a sober homeless female, it's not my fault i can't find genuine metalheads among the clones', and he says 'no, i need to put you in check, bro, it is your fault'. yeah, thanks, asshole. take a good look at society before you judge me. i am not your fucking scapegoat, and you need to get that through your thick fucking consumer skulls. you're misled by products, it's as simple as that. if you haven't seen zeitgeist, then you don't know what you're talking about, thus you should shut the fuck up. if you haven't seen dmt: the spirit molecule, then you don't know what you're talking about, and you should shut your fucking mouth. if you haven't seen american drug war: the last white hope, then you should shut the fuck up already! your knowledge is not king! your perspective does not rule! shut the fuck up! your world is not the only world to live in on this fucking round planet! how many people have to tell you and let you kill them for it before you start to fucking listen? the fact that you don't even know what i'm talking about says it all loud and clear, but you're not listening! and why should you, it's not your responsibility to! you're free and clear because your god gave you free will! here's your get out of jail free card, now move the fuck on! i'm sorry if i have intellectual standards that you do not. i'm sorry if my knowledge isn't compatible with a selfish, fearful, excuse driven monetary society. i've told countless people on my travels, the jiddu krishnamurti quote, 'it is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society'. ninety percent of you, your eyes glazed over in befuddlement. you want better statistics than that, then read a fucking book! it's not my fault you don't know this shit. i've tried to spread the message. word of mouth only works when people know you. you all have more excuses to not get to know me, than you do to make the time and muster the effort to read my fucking blog! my blog's gotten two comments so far! one from aze, who i talk to at support groups, and one from amiga debbie, who feeds homeless people under the bridge downtown every fuckin' sunday. yeah, great effort, seattle. oh, but it's all my fault, right? why, cause i can't make you click a fuckin' button? i can't make you spell evolution right? what? my mother would be saying the same fucking thing right now. always having to defend ourselves against pinhole perspectives. i'd sympathize with the watermelon, not the straw, hell, i was born five weeks late, i was obviously reluctant to join your little finger pointing party here. ever since i was a kid, standing next to my mom and her hot rod nova, and these douchebag, gruntknuckle fuckin' males would walk up, 'is that your daddy's car? is that your brother's car? is that your boyfriend's car? is that your husband's car?', she'd say 'no, it's mine, i built it', and they'd have an aneurysm. do you guys think that's cool, or what, cause i never quite got it, but you never quite got why i didn't want to be you, so i guess we're even. i'm nothing at all like you. i don't follow your orders, i don't scrub your fuckin' floors for you, i'm not that guy. you want that guy, i guarantee you, he's got shorter hair, and he's probably wearing fuckin' flipflops. he's a nametag toetag pricetag hashtag douchebag, give him a dollar, watch him dance. pull his string, he'll blow you, whatever you want. i'm not even on his side of the fuckin' room! and i'm certainly not your fucking bro! i'm an only child and my mother's dead! i'm not your fucking brother! i'm not your brodawgniggahomie! you need to get that through your thick fucking skulls and stop calling me that shit! i despise that whole 'brotherhood' mentality, i truly do! in a deep dark way! i hate my fucking family! i lost my two kids! i'm not the guy you wanna fuck with! grow the fuck up! pull up your fucking pants, stop asking me for drugs, and stop pissing on the fucking seat! i really want to do a fucking socioscientific study to find out why so many men have to keep approaching me and calling me bro, but women just don't approach me. i'm aching to know why. what is it in society's unconscious psychology that makes them this way? and all the pseudospiritual twits saying 'just ask the universe, it'll give you what you need', yeah, bullshit, still single! then dana says 'you're asking to be codependant', no, i'm asking for a female friend, and that's not too much to ask, what's so fucking great about loneliness? what's so great about living in a world where every single female on this planet is waiting for you to get a job and a house before they decide to touch you? what the fuck does that say about you, and why are you so proud of it? and then morgan says 'it's because you are a sex addict', no, to be a sex addict, you have to have had too much. i think i'm intelligent enough, and unlike you enough, that i could have a life full of sex, sex all day every day with thousands of different people including elton john, and still not be an addict. has society forgotten that there's a difference between an addictive personality, and a nonaddictive one? have you forgotten that people don't have to be you? i'm sorry i'm not so damaged that i had to develop a crutch or an imaginary friend to cope with life, but then again, i'm not damaged enough to have an excuse to live outside your rules and structure and establishment and this is the way life is advertisements and this is the way life could be advertisements. you're all assuming i'm not applying myself. you're all assuming i'm not trying hard enough. at this point, i'm honestly sick of asking women for anything at all, i'm seriously starting to feel like a pervert spider trying to coax a female fly into my morbid little fuckin' web of loneliness, and all they can do is call me a downer cause i don't smile twenty four seven like plastic clones who listen to pop music, i'm sorry i'm not you, i'm sorry you're so prolific that i'm the last of my kind, i'm sorry i'm a fuckin' unicorn in the land of one eyed people where it's legal to point but illegal to make a point! that's not my fucking fault! i can't even make a point around you people, you condemn me, you persecute me, why! why the fuck do so many men stare at me like they want to stab me? why don't you try to answer that? if you think society is so civilized, why don't you take a crack at that one? if we're not still beasts in a jungle, according to you, then why does this cracked out douchebag have that 'imma shank me some cell meat' look in his eye? why is elliot rodger dead? if you could admit anything! the concrete point under your feet. you cannot get drugs off your streets. i'll repeat that. you cannot get drugs off your streets. i'm waiting for your retort. go ahead. what brilliantly belligerent words do you have for me at this moment, sir? two lessons my mother taught me. these are going to end up in a children's book someday. number one: it's better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you're stupid, rather than open it and prove it. number two: think about what you're going to say before you say it. i'm sorry she never taught anyone else that, but again, how the fuck is that my fucking fault? why do i have to rant about this shit? why the fuck can't you stop already! grow the fuck up and get with it! there's no excuse why you can't get yourself a cheap smartphone from walmart, create a google account since you can't even 'member your last one, get on youtube and watch zeitgeist, before assuming you're more informed than i am! i could panhandle for a phone, and you still think yourself better than me. i've already bought two cheap smartphones for two other homeless douchebags, hoping they'd use the phone to educate themselves, and come back to me ready to help push a movement forward using anything besides raisin bran. do you see anyone standing next to me? male or female? and i need to be put in check, bro? the next mutherfucker to call me bro, my mother's telling me to kick you in the nuts, sorry, dude. it's not my fault you can't grow the fuck up and pull your pants up. it's not my fault you can't get off the drugs. it's not my fault you can't panhandle for education. but i've already got mine, don't need yours, thanks. praise the lowered. hail devin. kiss my black ass. first, you can figure out the reason i'm homeless. because then your apology will mean more. then, you can figure out how to be part of the solution, and not part of the problem. and you fuckers at operation sack lunch still wanna tell me i have no standards? what a coincidence, one of my standards is how about you get to know me before judging me. you can keep being a failure in my eyes, and seeing it the other way... or we can all be a success. i once got a ten dollar bill from a taco bell that had written on the back of it, 'when there are no thrones, we can all live like kings', with a big anarchy symbol drawn over the white house. that's the world i want to live in. you can keep thinking that i have to come closer to you and we can both remain alone and alienated, or you can meet me in utopia and realize there was never any reason to bitch about anything. we were just teething. didn't someone once say that evolutionary adolescence can be painful in weird ways? did we forget that, or what?
i am sorry, society, that all you seem to want, is someone to cheer your satiated, opinionated ass up, and pay your way down the road, but i do not want the same thing you do, so you can stop assuming i do. you can stop using that reason to misunderstand what i am saying. you have to realize that your dollars are a solution to nothing. the only thing that's going to get us out of this, is knowledge. brave, bold, outside the box knowledge. i am the possessor of this knowledge because that's my job. my job is not your job, thus you don't possess this knowledge. are we getting it yet? good, now then, to get to the end of my point and completely lose you and scare you off as usual. and this is a very simple point, so please, pay attention. i think it ties everything together quite well. here it is. ready? drumroll. if you've never been homeless, how the fuck would you know what it's like? you act like you can conceive the reasons behind it, but you're just making an ass of yourself. i'm sorry. you should have left your erroneous assumptions in elementary school, and that's precisely why they should teach evolution in school... actually, that's why parents should teach their own fucking children themselves, but i can see the next twenty steps in your maturity ladder, so i won't push your envelop to painfully far yet. your perception needs the jaws of life and a bag of mushrooms. before you think you know what's going on in a homeless person's life, maybe you should stop spending money on your own satiating consumption and stuff something in your brain. how about that? can we just agree on that much for now? please? it's hard enough being told to move every couple hours, we don't need the constant reminders of what losers we are in your wonderful society, while you're simultaneously denying its very illness you're commenting on, like your regurgitative verbal offering is worth something. listen to 'imperium' by machine fucking head live, and then we can pretend to be friends.
on the other hand...
i'm worth being touched.
i am worth physical contact.
i am worth a female's eyes.
i am worth your attention.
if you'd choose to see my positive, rather than commenting on the negative, you might understand that metalheads appreciate the yin and the yang better than you, at the very least.
is it not the duty of one to recognize the worth in another, or is it more civilized to call everyone uncultured swine and walk about as if you're god?
when you phrase something to intentionally go over the neanderthal's head, it's like spelling out 'd o c t o r' in front of your child.
my talent is worth more than your bank.
i'm just waiting for you to realize it.
in fact, that was inherent in a panhandling sign i made in los angeles:
my pen vs your wallet.
if the pen is mightier than the sword,
then the brain is mightier than the wallet.
what is your knowledge worth?
if all you can do is stick a price tag in my face, you aren't worth shit to me.
is anyone getting that yet? earth to earth, come in major tom, hello?
just because you can't understand me doesn't mean you have the right to assume i don't understand you. if i call myself a collector of perspectives, that means you have to consider what that implies. does it not? you dismiss it like it's a bad froot loop. i'm sick of butting my head against the same age group, the same mentality, having to explain myself over and over again, because you just can't seem to grow the fuck up yet, it's twenty seventeen, and half the world is still one one drug or another.
here's a little... uh... piece of what i wanted to accomplish with my own religion. in case you can't scroll further down than this. i wanted to draw a very thick, bold, permanent line between psychedelic and psychotic states of mind. label, categorize, and identify the two. everything related to psychedelic is in its category, i.e. love, harmony, unity, acceptance, knowledge, maturity, you know, shit like that. hippie shit. and then, of course, everything opposite that is categorized in the psychotic category, i.e. hate, war, violence, weapons, money, drugs, religion, television, products, et fucking cetera. that's latin for 'and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and yes i fucking typed all that, i'm not lazy. i do need to trim my fingernails, though.
and leave it to a construction worker to call a writer lazy. right? isn't that the society we're so proud to live in? kill john lennon and build homes on burial grounds?
'the truth should not surprise, your homes were built on lies'... pantera.
just admit it already. i don't live in your world. the people i'm looking for have titanium balls, and their third eyes are really embarrassingly hard to hide. if that's not you, press one now, and you'll be redirected to fuckin' disneyworld. are we done?
this rant really shouldn't be here, but i'll move it later. it's eight am.

another empty morning

i fucking hate this life so much. i fucking hate this life so much.

i'm so sick of waking up.

untouched

i fucking hate this fucking life.
it will never change.

i'm so sick of men staring at me.
i'm sick of women refusing to look at me.

i'm sick of this 'every man for himself' mentality.

i'm sick of consumers, capitalists, cowards, and clones.

i'm sick of all of you.

you'll never have time for me.

i don't know why the fuck i try.
i don't know why the fuck i'm still here.

i can't even stand looking at women anymore.

the impossibility of life

DOES EVERY LITTLE FUCKING THING I EVER TRY TO DO SERIOUSLY HAVE TO BE THIS FUCKING DIFFICULT!!! WHY!!! WHY, LORD, WHY!!! WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS SHIT!!! I CAN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING!!! I'M CONSTANTLY FIGHTING WITH THIS BODY, CONSTANTLY FIGHTING WITH MY CRIPPLED FUCKING FINGERS THAT JUST WON'T DO WHAT I FUCKING ASK THEM NO MATTER WHAT!!! INANIMATE OBJECTS WON'T FUCKING COOPERATE WITH ME!!! ELECTRONICS WON'T DO WHAT I ASK ANYMORE!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! IT'S TOO MUCH TO ASK!!! IT JUST GETS MORE AND MORE DIFFICULT FOR ME TO LIVE ALONE!!! I CAN'T FUCKING DO ANYTHING!!! I FEEL LIKE SUCH A CRIPPLE, A RETARD, A FUCKING INVALID!!! I CAN'T EVEN GET THIS FUCKING BODY TO COOPERATE OR GET THE FUCK OUT OF PAIN!!! MY NOSE WON'T STOP ITCHING AND LEAKING, MY EYES WON'T STOP GETTING HAIRS AND EYELASHES IN FRONT OF THEM, AND ITCHING, AND LEAKING, AND WATERING, AND SNOT GOOPERS!!! I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF THIS SHIT, THIS STUPID PATHETIC FUCKING LIFE!!! DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING CLUE HOW BADLY I WANT TO FUCKING DIE!!! I CANNOT WAIT TO LEAVE YOUR FUCKING SICK, SELFISH, PATHETIC FUCKING PLANET!!! I KNOW THERE ARE BETTER PLANETS OUT THERE, HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME THINK OTHERWISE!!! YOU FUCKING LOSERS!!! YOU FUCKING MORONS!!! YOU FUCKING IMBECILES!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! MY FUCKING ASS BURNS!!! MY BACK FEELS LIKE IT'S WELDED TO A FUCKING OIL DRILL!!! MY STOMACH IS IN SUCH A STATE OF DISASTER, I'M WONDERING WHEN IT'S GONNA KILL ME!!! DO YOU HAVE TO PUT UP WITH HALF THIS SHIT!!! I'M LOSING MY FUCKING MIND, AND NO ONE GIVES A JOLLY RAINBOW GOATFUCK!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!!! I SHOULD NEVER HAVE DONE ALL THAT SHIT FOR YOU!!! KNOWING IT WOULD NEVER BE RECIPROCATED!!! AND I FEEL LIKE THE FUCKING MORON!!! IS THAT JUST HOW CONTAGIOUS YOUR IGNORANCE IS??? YOUR APATHY, YOUR COMPLACENCE, LIKE IT'S A MUTHERFUCKING PRODUCT!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! I HATE THIS FUCKING WORLD OF YOURS!!! IT'S DESIGNED FOR CHILDREN, NOT MATURITY!!! IT'S DESIGNED TO EXCUSE MORONS, RATHER THAN EVOLVE ANYTHING!!! I'M BEGGING FOR AN END TO THIS FUCKING HORRID NIGHTMARE!!! I ACHE FOR DEATH!!! THE END!!! TO FALL INTO THE ARMS OF DARKNESS, AND HAVE EVERY BIT OF THIS MISERABLE DREAM ERASED FROM MY FUCKING HEAD!!! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LIVE IN A BODY LIKE THIS??? THE FUCK YOU DO, YOU DEFINE PERFECTION LIKE IT'S YOUR BUSINESS!!! DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING CLUE HOW MUCH I DETEST AND DESPISE YOU!!! I LOATHE EVERY FUCKING BIT OF THIS DELUSION!!! EVERY GODDAMN MOMENT!!! EVERY EFFORT I TRY TO MAKE TO DO SOMETHING MYSELF, AND THE FACT THAT IT HAS TO BE THWARTED EVERY FUCKING TIME BY SOME MYSTERIOUS UNKNOWN EVIL FORCE BEHIND THE CRACKS IN YOUR REALITY!!! I FUCKING HATE YOU!!! MY FINGERS WON'T EVEN LET ME TYPE THIS RIGHT!!! I USED TO BE ABLE TO TYPE SEVENTY WORDS A FUCKING MINUTE!!! NOW MY FINGERS JUST STUMBLE OVER THE KEYS LIKE THE WORDS STUMBLE OVER MY TONGUE ON THE WAY OUT!!! WHAT THE FUCK FUCKING NIGHTMARE IS THIS!!! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!! THIS BODY IS DYING!!! THIS IS A HELL I NEVER FUCKING DESERVED!!! I NEVER WANTED TO SHARE THIS EARTH WITH YOU!!! I NEVER ASKED FOR ANY OF THIS!!! I THOUGHT, HEY, WHILE I'M HERE, I MIGHT AS WELL HELP, AND OFFER A SOLUTION... BUT YOU DON'T WANT A SOLUTION, DO YOU??? YOU'RE TOO FUCKING IMMATURE AND STUBBORN TO WANT A SOLUTION TO SUCH A GREAT FUCKING LIFE, WHERE YOU GET TO DRIVE YOUR MERCEDES PAST THE BUMS ON THE STREET WITHOUT A FUCKING THOUGHT IN YOUR HEAD!!! AND WE'RE SUPPORTING YOU??? WE'RE HOLDING YOU ABOVE US FOR WHAT FUCKING REASON AGAIN??? I WANT THIS FUCKING PLANET ERADICATED!!! DESTROYED!!! THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING!!! YOU CAN'T EVEN FUCKING GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ME BECAUSE I'M A METALHEAD, AND YOU'RE TOO MUCH OF A COWARD TO GIVE MESHUGGAH A TRY!!! THESE WEAK PEOPLE ARE WHAT I HAVE TO CHOOSE FROM FOR FRIENDS??? HOW THE FUCK WOULD A GOD EXCUSE THIS??? AND WHY THE FUCK DO YOU STILL NEED A GOD!!! YOU FUCKING WEAKLINGS!!! YOU FUCKING COWARDS!!! I CAN'T FIND ONE FEMALE BRAVE ENOUGH TO TOUCH ME WITHOUT 'I HAVE TO GET TO KNOW YOU FIRST'. I CAN'T FIND ONE FEMALE CURIOUS ENOUGH TO STICK AROUND!!! I CAN'T BE APPROACHED BY A SINGLE MALE WHO'S NOT DRAGGING HIS PANTS ON THE FUCKING GROUND, ASKING ME FOR DRUGS, CALLING ME FUCKING BRO, SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! PULL YOUR FUCKING PANTS UP!!! I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING BRO!!! IT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS ENOUGH TO YOU BY THE FUCKING SKIRT I'M WEARING!!! YOU FUCKING MORON!!! KEEP SHOVING YOUR ASS IN MY FACE, I'M GONNA PROTEST BY WALKING AROUND NAKED, AND I CAN'T WAIT TO START!!! I WILL PROTEST EVERY STUPID FUCKING THING YOU DO!!! I SWEAR TO CHRIST!!! YOU'RE A HUMILIATION TO EVERYTHING GOOD ON THIS PLANET!!! YOU'RE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO ANYTHING DECENT!!! YOU'RE THE REASON ALIENS DON'T FUCKING LAND!!! YOU CHILDISH SACK OF SHIT!!! TRY LIVING MY LIFE FOR ONE FUCKING DAY!!! TRY BEING CAPTIVE IN THIS TURD ON TOOTHPICKS FOR JUST ONE FUCKING DAY, AND SEE HOW YOU FEEL!!! SEE IF IT DOESN'T SPARK A LITTLE MOTIVATION TO IMPROVE YOURSELF!!! I FUCKING HATE YOU AND I FUCKING HATE YOUR WORLD!!! I'VE NEVER HIT THE BACKSPACE KEY THIS FUCKING MUCH BEFORE!!! WHY CAN NOTHING GET BETTER!!! EVER!!! I GIVE UP EVERY NIGHT, EVERY MORNING, I BEG TO WAKE UP IN A BETTER WORLD, WITH NAKED PEOPLE WALKING AROUND!!! NOT ONE CREDIT CARD IN SIGHT!!! COULD I FUCKING TYPE PLEASE!!! HOW FUCKING HARD DOES IT HAVE TO BE!!! HOW FUCKING DIFFICULT DOES THIS SHIT HAVE TO BE!!! IT'S TOO MUCH TO FUCKING ASK TO JUST BE ABLE TO FUCKING TYPE SOMETHING!!! LET ALONE GETTING ANY FUCKING HELP WHATSOEVER FROM YOU FUCKING CRETINS!!! DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING CLUE HOW MUCH I FUCKING HATE YOU!!! SURE, YOU GET THE EASY LIFE, GET YOUR STARBUCKS, NO PROBLEMS, AND GO ON WITH YOUR EMPTY, UNEDUCATED, MORON FUCKING LIFE, AND YOU JUST CAN'T AFFORD TO GIVE A FUCK!!! ABOUT ANYTHING BUT YOURSELF!!! SELFISH FUCKING DOUCHEBAGS!!! I FUCKING HATE YOU ALL!!! I'M TRYING TO MAKE THIS LIFE A LITTLE BETTER, AND I RUN INTO THIS MUCH DIFFICULTY, AND GET NO FUCKING HELP, HELP IS TOO MUCH TO FUCKING ASK YOU FUCKS!!! YOU WORTHLESS, INCOMPETENT, LAZY, USELESS, WHINY COWARD FUCKS!!! ALL OF YOU!!! NOT A GODDAMN ONE OF YOU CAN GIVE A FUCK!!! NOT A GODFUCKING ONE OF YOU CAN HELP!!! DON'T EVER MAKE LIFE ANY EASIER, JUST MAKE IT A CLUSTERFUCKED WEB OF CONFUSION, CHAOS, AND DEVASTATION, CAUSE THAT'S ALL YOU FUCKING KNOW!!! GOD FORBID ANYONE COMES ALONE TRYING TO IMPROVE LIFE!!! DON'T GIVE THEM A FUCKING DIME, DON'T EVEN LOOK AT THEM, THEY'RE TOO FREAKY, AND YOU'RE TOO MUCH OF A COWARD!!! LOOK THE OTHER WAY!!! I'M TOO FUCKING UGLY FOR YOU!!! MY BODY HAS TOO MANY PROBLEMS!!! YOU'D BE BETTER OFF RESCUING A THREE LEGGED DOG!!! DON'T EVER RESCUE ANOTHER FUCKING HUMAN!!! THAT'S JUST TOO INHUMANE AND ILLOGICAL, RIGHT??? HEY, THERE'S A GUY IN QUICKSAND, JUST STEP OVER HIM TO GET TO YOUR STARFUCKS!!! YOU GREEDY FUCKING CUNT!!! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO LIVE ON THIS FUCKING PLANET IF YOU CAN'T EVEN THINK OF PART OF THE SOLUTION TO YOUR SELF RIGHTEOUS ASS!!! YOU MAKE ME FUCKING SICK!!! IT'S PROBLY WHY THIS BODY'S TRYING TO FUCKING KILL ME!!! BUT I'M STILL TOO REPULSIVE TO BE TOUCHED!!! TOO REPUGNANT TO BE NOTICED!!! TOO UGLY TO BE LOOKED AT!!! TOO HIDEOUS TO BE SEEN!!! DON'T BOTHER LOOKING AT ME, THAT WOULD BE TOO NICE, TOO HUMAN!!! I KNOW THAT CREDIT CARD UP YOUR ASS JUST HAS TO BE SPENT RIGHT NOW, BUT OF COURSE IT'S NOT CONTROLLING YOUR MIND, YOU KNOW WHY??? THERE'S NO FUCKING MIND TO CONTROL!!! YOU'RE A SLAVE!!! YOU'VE GIVEN YOURSELF OVER TO THE WAY SOCIETY WORKS, YOU'D BE MUCH MORE PROUD AND MUCH MORE USEFUL IF YOU WERE BRAVE ENOUGH TO THROW YOURSELF AGAINST THE GRAIN!!! BUT YOU'RE JUST A FOUR DOLLAR CREDIT CARD STARFUCKS DOUCHEBAG!!! THAT'S ALL YOU ARE!!! A PLASTIC FUCKING CARRYING CASE FOR YOUR CREDIT CARD!!! A MANNEQUIN WITH A BANK ACCOUNT!!! THAT'S ALL YOU'LL EVER BE!!! YOU'RE NOT MAKING ANYTHING BETTER!!! HOMELESS PEOPLE STILL HURT!!! BUT THE WORLD SHOULD CELEBRATE YOU, CAUSE YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING HUMAN!!! YOU'RE FAKE!!! YOU'RE FALSE!!! YOU'RE A FUCKIN' PHONY!!! I CAN PROVE IT ON A PIECE OF CARDBOARD!!! WHAT THE FUCK MAKES YOU SO GREAT!!! YOU LIVE ON A PLANET WITH HOMELESS PEOPLE!!! WHAT'S THERE TO BE PROUD OF??? THAT NEW MOVIE YOU MADE, OR THE BILLION DOLLARS YOU MADE OFF IT??? OH, AND BE SURE TO SUE THE SIX PEOPLE WHO GOT THAT FILM FOR FREE, ONLY TO WASTE TWO HOURS ON IT, CAUSE EVERYONE'S GOTTA PAY YOU EVERY DIME, YOU'VE CERTAINLY EARNED IT, YOU FUCKING TOXIC FART!!! SAYING YOU DESERVE EVERY DOLLAR, IS SAYING WE DON'T DESERVE SHIT!!! WE GET THE PRIVILEGE OF CELEBRATING YOUR SUPERIOR ASS!!! WE HAVE TO CARRY YOUR THRONE!!! YOU SICK FUCK!!! MEANWHILE THIS BODY'S FUCKING DYING!!! I'M IN MISERY!!! AGONY!!! SHIT YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT!!! I LIVE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF YOUR FUCKING PENNY!!! THE DARKSIDE OF YOUR MOON!!! THAT'S ALL I AM!!! I'M NOT DESERVING OF AN EASIER TIME!!! IT HAS TO BE THIS FUCKING DIFFICULT FOR ME!!! MY BODY TRYING TO CONTROL INANIMATE OBJECTS IS LIKE A FLY TRYING TO DRIVE YOUR ASS HOME!!! AND YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT I'M EVEN TALKING ABOUT!!! YOU CAN'T EVEN MAKE THE FUCKING EFFORT TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH!!! IF ONLY I COULD SHOVE YOUR HEAD INTO THIS NIGHTMARE, AND REMOVE MY OWN, THE TABLES WOULD BE TURNED, LIFE WOULD BE FAIR, AND YOU WOULD NO LONGER BE THE PROBLEM PARADING ITSELF AS THE SOLUTION TO BE CELEBRATED!!!

i really don't want to exist anymore.
i'm really sick of waking up every morning.
this heart is just a fucking pathetic burden.

fuck titles

why did i have to be so alone this whole three years.

why did i have to be in so much pain this whole time.

why did every inanimate object have to disobey me.

even my own fingers have no faith in me.

nothing will do what i want.

this reality just will not compromise to let me exist.

this morning, i see a homeless girl walk past.

i asked if she wanted to smoke a bowl.

she ignores me and keeps on walking.

i get it, lord.

i'm just not allowed to make a fuckin' friend.

i'm just too creepy, too ugly, too repugnant.

i get it.

hey, plus, i have herpes and don't shower.

yeah, well, since i don't deserve a female on this planet...

what the fuck is the point in being here?

i'd much rather be on any other planet.

it hurts so much.