Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Life: A Fun Nightmare

Sometimes I stand in my backyard smoking cigarettes in a man tailored shirt with no pants, and I stare at my neighbor through the chain link fence and then I yawn and I think, "It's exhausting being a cunt," and then I think about jumping off the roof, and how it's not high enough to kill me, but weigh the odds about falling head first. Paraplegia: Brain leaking out of busted skull, and it seems like I don't know 700:1 or something, but I still think, "Maybe later."

And I think, there are a lot of people in this house, and none of them are alive, really, and I think about stabbing a butcher knife into my chest cavity a lot, but I think, I'm not strong enough, or like, the angle isn't right, and then I think of like, building some sort of "thing" where the knife handle is like stuck inside of the wall, and then I could just run into as fast as possible. I think about like going to Lowes and like  spending my last 40 bucks buying the materials to make some sort of "stab stand" and like, I think about taking several days to work on it, and I start laughing because it would be so much easier to just leave someone a note that says, "Sorry I borrowed your gun."

And then I think about just becoming someone's fuck animal or something, like, letting someone beat me and fuck me with objects, and like giving the kind of blow jobs where the goal is to get you to puke all over yourself for funzies with a leash and a sign around your neck that says "good time fun holes" and you have feeding times where you eat from a bowl on the floor and someone lets you outside to use the bathroom, and honestly, it seems like a small price to pay to relinquish yourself of all personal responsibility.

And there's a lot of narcotics and super hit incense and mascara tears, and there's a lot of Murakami quotes, and girls who look the same dressed in black leather clothes, and one of them is shoving something into the other one's throat and she's choking, and pictures of aborted fetuses and celebrity autopsies. Everyone is always talking about love, and someone is jacking off on a picture of jesus.

And sometimes I record myself singing, or asking siri questions about suicide, or take a hundred pictures of my sex face.

But mostly, I just lie back and think of England.

 

 

 

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