Freewrite-Freethinking-Mind Wanderer
Time is so fucking relative. days, minutes, hours, weeks all dependent upon each other. Time fades with the sun and moon, passing through my particles, the essence of my being is merely energy and light, dependent on the sun and moon to tell me what I need. My porous nature, a pathetic reminder that im human, just like pain. Pain makes me feel alive though. Without it, without the constant fuck ups lately I feel like another manufactured zombie, stuck in the routine trends of my daily life. Fuck the man! Shun the man! Shun the nonbeliever. Its my own damn fault and I cant take responsibility. I turn to the bottle, to the pills, noting helps. Its still me I have to face. Why cant I overcome myself? Im the only one who cant. I whine and bitch and moan in a pool of my own worthless self pity bullshit. Hail the serpent queen, the heartless black widow. The dark and twisty soul I tell so many tales of. Its only a shell. I have nothing inside. Lies all lies. Like narwhals and unicorns., or zombie ants. Facts of nature maybe? Fractals. FRACTALS MAN. Cough it makes you higher. Theyre gonna get me. Paranoia encircles me. I can feel it. Its everywhere, creeping into my skin like bugs on a meth addict. Scratching, tossing turning, I cant sleep at night. Insomnia haunts me and yet I sleep for hours when I don’t want to. Why would I want to. To sleep is to dream is to be calm and live in a world where things are right. Why would anyone want that. I want chaos. I want negativity. I want problems. I want drugs. I want fucking up. I thrive off it. I need something. Anything. Anythihg but myself. Anything but sobriety. But I am sober. A lot lately. And yet I fuck myself up with my own thoughts. The door slammed shut, my roomates must think im crazy. Turn your damn music down its three am. But im awake. In my fort. My fort of pure awesomeness that strangely has a negative vibe to it. I need to fix that. WE NEED TO KILL HER AND DANCE IN HER BLOOD! Everything would make sense then.. and we would have the flashing floor, the shiny lights. That could be a good place to go. No one would notice the blood on our hands. But don’t we always have blood on our hands. That’s where responsibility leads us. Growing up responsibility. Damn manufactured machines coming to take me away! To sell my soul to the corporations as I go to walmart to buy processed and rationed food, and the newest blender, since it has a mince setting now. I don’t even eat meat. Im a vegetarian who happesn to enjoy the occasional steak and hates most vegetables. A walking contradiction? Oh how I wish. I only wish I was as interesting as I can make myself out to be. I want to cover my walls in scribbles and call it art. I want glowsticks from my ceiling fan (at least that one thing is still me). I want money so I can afford to be homeless. A high class hobo, only cost me $500 for the clothes and necessities. Spending money to look poor, still a strange concept and yet one I would adhere to if I could afford it. That sentence alone is stupid. I am a vampire I am a vampire! i don’t even know if I can take pain. Fucking pussies, but they taste so good. I miss the taste of blood. What do I need to do. Im a fucking selfish monstrosity, and that’s being to kind. Oh how I revel in my own issues, or lack thereof. Cocorosie you own my soul, oh wait kid cudi has dibs on that. 17 is a fine age for me, but 18 oh shit you’re a bit to old. 28 sounds nice though. Escapist. I love that term, I think it’s a good description. To bad the fact of the matter is I try so hard to be different im more like anyone else than I want to know.
That felt good.
That felt good.