Suck a Duck, Motherfucker
I am alone.
My friends...they fight or they are stupid or they ignore me or rob me or fuck me or whatever. And I am sick of everything.
Shorts dissolved into rectal mucus...soapy egg flesh...
A liar...she always said she needed no one; that's what made us great together. Self reliance. We wanted nothing more, or so she told me. Always wanting more. We'll see.
Anger to those who thought they could find fulfillment in me. Anger to those who thought they could love me. Anger to those who thought I could meet their needs.
SHIT.
At first I thought I was angry at them because I hated myself, because I thought I wasn't worth anything.
But afterwards, in my car, I wondered; "how can that be? I really don't think I hate myself." In fact, I like who I am. I like being an eccentric prick. I wouldn't have it any other way.
So why do I hate them?
Because they have those kinds of needs that can only be satisfied by other people. That's why. Another form/sign/symptom of weakness.
I bought SimCity3000 tonight. I cannot install it, because my dad is a computer nazi. He will have to install it for me tomorrow. Bitch.
Fried mushrooms at Saltgrass are tasty.
Crazy party the other night. Beers and blunts all around, though I of course only partook in the former. Sexual tension could be cut with a knife to the heart or the hard cock in my pants, and Tony, who had had 3 "very dry, very dirty martinis" before his arrival, along with god only knows what else, jumped off the balcony.
An interesting evening, to say the least.
"They want to ban us up on capital hill, cuz it's die motherfucker! die motherfucker! still."
"I want to beat up the world."
My friends...they fight or they are stupid or they ignore me or rob me or fuck me or whatever. And I am sick of everything.
Shorts dissolved into rectal mucus...soapy egg flesh...
A liar...she always said she needed no one; that's what made us great together. Self reliance. We wanted nothing more, or so she told me. Always wanting more. We'll see.
Anger to those who thought they could find fulfillment in me. Anger to those who thought they could love me. Anger to those who thought I could meet their needs.
SHIT.
At first I thought I was angry at them because I hated myself, because I thought I wasn't worth anything.
But afterwards, in my car, I wondered; "how can that be? I really don't think I hate myself." In fact, I like who I am. I like being an eccentric prick. I wouldn't have it any other way.
So why do I hate them?
Because they have those kinds of needs that can only be satisfied by other people. That's why. Another form/sign/symptom of weakness.
I bought SimCity3000 tonight. I cannot install it, because my dad is a computer nazi. He will have to install it for me tomorrow. Bitch.
Fried mushrooms at Saltgrass are tasty.
Crazy party the other night. Beers and blunts all around, though I of course only partook in the former. Sexual tension could be cut with a knife to the heart or the hard cock in my pants, and Tony, who had had 3 "very dry, very dirty martinis" before his arrival, along with god only knows what else, jumped off the balcony.
An interesting evening, to say the least.
"They want to ban us up on capital hill, cuz it's die motherfucker! die motherfucker! still."
"I want to beat up the world."