One quarter of an hour to who gives a fuck when and it's just me. Splintered, far away mind circles unanswerable quandaries brought about by incurable mental dysfunctions. When simply existing is misery and anything beyond even more miserable how do I? The Kid once offered the reasonable solution of terminating my own metabolic functions as he too saw no solution. Trying and failing once was enough in keeping with my quitting ways. Half of one-half of a century of seeking remedies spiritual, herbal, carnal and pharmaceutical dead ends at current non-state. That is to say, praying, toking, fucking and medicating did fuck all. Copulation at least satiates primal drives kept restrained for society's sake. Targets for desire being rarer than want of social interaction primal drives often go unsated. I'm no socialite. Devoid of wants, hopes, material goods and concern for status, Buddha would be proud but life is less forgiving. Dr. Jeung would see me devouring endless bottles of anti-depressants but I love my cock too much. If I loved my writing that much you'd be reading this in a paperback likely picked up by accident from a bargain bin. Three minutes to seven in the morning. I don't give a fuck. Accepting your problem is the first step to ignoring it.
1 comment:
Hey, hey, it's ok - they'll have the Bratz dolls back in stock soon.
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