laughing at your meatless bones.
and there's a reason for that.
a reason i'm sure all the blunt, to-the-point ideas couldn't engrave into your solid steel skull. a reason that's so deep and drastic, so articulate and complex, that any attempt to try and fathom some sort of direction has ceased, stopped.
but what comes of standing in the middle of the road, immobile, with on-coming traffic aiming for your shins? what possible case of mental insanity has come upon your oblivious state of mind that has made you want to stare blankly into the headlights of my one-way bull rampage?
i simply do not know.
and now it's come to the point where i just dont even fucking care. in the least.
not about any sort of recipe your mom ripped out of the pages of Home & Garden, not about possible endevours your friends and i lead - paving a brighter road to the future, and certainly not about any cheap, aids-ridden bathroom stall with your cell phone number graffiti'd above the toilet paper with a note saying WILL SUCK COCK FOR QUARTERS.
nope.
it's beyond any anecdote of social destortion, replenishment, or mind fucking.
and in the end my ears still get slapped with the corners of my mouth; smiling like i've won the fucking jackpot.
im rich baby, and i have not a mother fucking dime in my pockets.
...well i guess i do, but it's for smoking.
get your own sandwich, bitch.