It's some kind of super narcotic, "being alive" or
rather "wanting" to "be alive". Struggling for bullshit.
Working a register, slinging a food product, saving a life... to have your nose
hover above water, meanwhile life is blowtorching your scalp. To pay the
fucking rent, you suck all levels of cock. You don't see the day transition...
And when I say "cock", I mean "fucking bullshit". Smiling.
Politeness. Here's your fucking "egg-fuck-scramble", here's your
"heart-rape-symphony." And somebody set the price...for food, for
rent, for a car, for gas...and that person or persons are sticking their cocks into
and stuffing their cunts with the fumes of misery emanating upward toward an
asshole full of lights, also known as "space". If we could grasp "space" and our
own insignificance, then maybe the price of living would go down. If those in
power and those on the street with blown-up egos could all understand that they
are "nothing". Vapid. Empty. Lucky. Shit. Rise, but don't interrupt
watching reality television...you rise for cake, for taking a shit, for your
dildo or dick lubricant...you won't exercise so you eat and masturbate. And
then the explosions...
Took a cab home with a pint of tequila and finished it, door
to door, cap to lips, fuck to you. If only I had a sledgehammer...
There is no reason for anyone to be hungry tonight. There is
no reason for anyone to be loveless tonight. There is no reason for anything at
all. The structure. ... ... has to fall.
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