such a drag when everyone is so serious, so concerned
its in my stomach, this burning, ma tells me not to freak out, its scary when you see blood, she says. she puts her hand over the reciever but i can hear, even through that leathery skin, "he's pissing blood," she hisses, while im holding my cock in one hand with the phone jammed between my chin and collarbone, repeating the same rhythme in my head...the one in which im dead. she tells me not to worry about it and rings off, and frankly i'm more bothered by these choices i have to make. choices but im so stuck i dont think ill ever get out. three ways of doing it, and i just want the most effective. i pick my way through the web but there's too much too much too much....what is information...and my creator didn't have a name until he grew bored on that third day and made me, im adam a sinner and the first, the only. the void, nothing. that thing, that one thing which left me longing and hopefully deflated..does it mean anything anymore? that thing that one thing, which was broken and glued and was white ...i swear it was so white and ive tried to bleach it now, but i left it in too long and its yellow, some parts are beginning to disintegrate. but then there was the concert, their vibratos humming in my chest as i miscarried in the bathroom. i contemplated my child, this first of something, a nothing ruined beginning a wad of snot cocconed in blood. in the stalls next to me other girls try to choose, bassist or cellist? they want to start a band, they need two grand. my ruined mind ticks by and spreads its runny death into your hand as we shake on it......You say hello i say goodbye. i dont know how to say hello.