I finished the aforementioned text and found it to be so
spectacular I’m not sure how I survived so long without it. Lust may be
the operative word; it is too difficult to say. I don’t want to count
anything. There was green inside of red and that is disguising it far too
much, it’s really doing it a disservice. I live on my back. I think
I can relate to the overall sentiment as I would also feel great peace at those
approving chants and cries during the final moments. That is merely the very
first to be crossed off the list though there shall be many others.
This morning I sipped steaming hot black coffee out of a mug emblazoned with the Oakland Athletics logo. Baseball season is starting soon and my excitement is reaching a fever pitch! While drinking said coffee and consuming a well-balanced breakfast I also viewed the ostensible season finale of The X-Files.
Very soon it will be time for to venture out of my little bubble that I may plunk down copious amounts of cash to purchase items I don’t necessarily need. You know, I’ve been listening a lot to the Wu Tang Clan lately in between deep bouts of self-loathing. I vividly recall being in the multiplex 7 years ago when a fight broke out between an adolescent and a grown man. Later on, I realized I hated them both, and in ways that were not too dissimilar. I am feeling quite dizzy while I type all of this and only have a vague idea as to why. Such pity, I feel such pity. How is it possible we are all devoting ourselves to things we do not care about? Please, afterward I will post a happy photo of myself online and this will make everything better. I fear my chest may explode at any moment.
No one quite understands the power being wielded in these moments. Hate is being spread out over the sky and right there on our TV screens. Oh, why must we subscribe to so much high school philosophy? Please show me what cultures you were talking about, please enlighten me because I am clearly too stupid to understand. This is not about the simple transference of a virus; you are thinking far too small. I’ve never been in charge of anything in my life but I know enough to know that these ancient texts we’ve brazenly ignored are going to be the source of quite a bit of turmoil. Is it a terrifying book? It must be so great to think so small without a care in the world. And then you may cry yourself to sleep at night for how deeply misunderstood you are. What pathetic things we are when we desperately seek out these meaningless connections and then how we cling to them while wasting every passing moment of our lives. Let’s not jump into bed right now with psychics. We are approaching a critical juncture and there is another coming and I am not sure I am going to be around subsequent to his/her arrival.
I honestly don’t know what to expect anymore, especially with this recent smear campaign. Or would it be more accurate to call it a full blown conspiracy? I want to believe things can be truly great. If that is not possible I suspect I will be nearly as happy if it is an overblown, problematic, overly ambitious, doesn’t quite work, bombastic fascinating pop epic. We shall see. Ultimately, it may just come and go and leave nothing more than a pit of indifference in my stomach.
One day he is going to wake up and no longer be able to hide the fact that he is deeply unhappy. But he won’t be able to understand why he is unhappy. Someone else will understand though, perfectly. And that individual will be all too happy to explain why should he politely ask.
It’s so cold. The ranging squires of dance that parade inside the mines of hallowed shadows. My face is disappearing like sex in the desert and the world keeps spinning while flesh is rejoiced. I’ve not been able to guide the transcendental principles that apply to the various green ruptures under the rich shade of newfound wealth. All I can do is express disappointment to the unusual men who previously ventured into mechanical jungles where inside the gold bars were so evenly discovered taxonomic blades and infrequent departments of nutritional justice. Oh the trails inside my mouth, I need someone to unscrew my brain. Pretty please mommy?!
Maybe I am looking forward to the R-rated cut! One thing is for sure: I need to listen to more albums by Elvis Costello, Flaming Lips, Run the Jewels, a guy named Klaus and GZA. Whatever, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. They ask me not to talk. Oh, we are such pathetic ugly things. Please let us lie around and binge and pretend the hardest we can. This is awful, it is all so awful. I think Thalia’s albums make me feel better most of the time. Thankfully, I’m reading a book by Clive Barker these days. I think when I grow up I’ll be morbidly obese and raise lovable dogs that I will subsequently sell on the streets to worthy families (though at admittedly inflated prices).
The butterfly came from inside the sun and destroyed my senses. Proffering a dark liquid afterward, I could not help but feel elated by the reproach. My eyes were wandering beasts and I never sought to shield myself from the glass traps. There was a monster inside of him while the others cheered and rallied. It no longer looks like me. Nothing is the same as it was before. I think we are sitting in a white room somewhere. From inside the sun, where all the gears and parts were slowly going to waste. This is a rare moment of beauty. Please, he does not want to destroy anything anymore. Please just let him stay in his room. Why does everyone keep talking to me? Can’t they all just leave me alone?
Ghetto man is inside the hawk and I no longer understanding a fatherfucking thing!
[Thank you C.W. (not
the channel, or is it?!)]
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