Yeah, you. Talking to me. Talking at me. You have no idea as to how much I want to recreate your face, just stick my fist into your mouth and twist, twist and twist some more until your eyeballs are itching and flickering due to you own chin hair crawling and growing long in the night.
Shut up? Maybe?
Here's the new Zen...death. Don't meditate, perform yoga or light a fucking candle. Take a glass and smash it on your face. Let your eyes bleed and distort your vision. Follow that new map. The crimson map. Buy a canoe or a shotgun, or both. Travel or suicide. But all in all, put your goddamned mouth to rest.
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