Monday, September 12, 2011

scooter squids.

domestic confession

I've only been with one person that I was content not having sex with-but when she left to italy or idaho or wherever, I didnt care. I think I laughed at her on the phone.

in most of my relationships the only time I ever tried to make it work was after it ended. once they were back, we just had sex until it got old and then I stopped trying again.

I always test people's limits. morally, mentally, and physically. I act like everyone is some sort of object for my amusement.

it's possible I only love myself.

I don't have any goals or aspirations, except for having fun.

my only passions are food, music, and wandering around endlessly.

I pretty much could care less about the poor, disabled, or diseased.

most of the time I feel more alone being around others, because I can't be myself.

I lie and manipulate words, situations, and people in order to get what I want.

contrary to popular belief, I hate men and women equally.
1. most women aren't good for anything
2. almost all men are only useful as expendable war assets.

I have no Idea how to use proper grammar or punctuation. I'm doomed to a miserable existence because of this fact. apparently.

I got pissy like a little bitch at work today, so now I'm mad at the world.
doesn't change the fact that no matter how nice, carefree, or loving I may ever seem... This is who I really am; a pacifist psychopath. how much sense does that make?

I need muh hoe right now.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

sun screened snake poo.

tired eyes meet tired skies
there is no moon or stars tonight
just man made lights, flaming bright.

this time of month, our moon is at rest while the sun ventures west
its a much needed vacation for a mirror in the shadows.
being tucked in a void of a closet
means less time as an amateur prophet.

while a witness to an orgy of famine and fashion
our wayward friend must cling to one last bastion
of hope-of irony-for a winter solstice greeted by frozen corpses.
no life, light, walls, or time
a world where she'll be fine
never again spectating a show of pain and woe.
who knows-maybe when the sun explodes?

but until that day, or night
she dreads the shame shed from every blistering ray.

though I must say, the stresses and struggles of everyday life
wouldn't be if blue footed boobies ended up eating your wife.
is that ever gonna happen?
probably not.
I guess you could give it a shot...
maybe...toss her in a zoo test?
but I think it'd be best to place bets with the moon
since I'm sure we're blowing up the sun real soon.
in the name of skin cancer, no less.