megh
I have a chance to meet Bone Thugs N Harmony next Saturday. Question is, do I really give a fuck if I do?
If I get too much of something, I get bored with it. This may explain my inability to get addicted to anything.
That's why ONSs appeal to me... there's something in the spontaneity and immediate truncation of it that forces me to appreciate it. I will never be clean again.
My head hurts and it forces my eyes closed. Close up on my dry knuckles, red with white veins of crispy skin... a mouth, a splintered wooden stick jutting out like a cock, her tears moistening it, black grease around her lips chapped and peeled... a Korean girl with teardrop eyes smiling white teeth behind red lips, pale skin, scent of stale almonds and overripe peaches; the sex smells like wet paper and tastes like ground cinnamon and citrus; her eyes are brown and dry and reddening... darkness is cold and loneliness is colder and i can't stand the heat... my candybar is made with frozen semen... my eyes sting with no sleep... they stare at me because I have nowhere to go and am alone... they wonder just how much sanity has escaped when i attempt to turn invisible by stripping myself down to the bone, chunks of flesh like soggy toast on the floor... my only meal is the lies i swallow... i vomit truth and it hurts my throat...
and now, someone turns on the light and bodies enter the room and i am again confronted with humanity.
i hate this place.
If I get too much of something, I get bored with it. This may explain my inability to get addicted to anything.
That's why ONSs appeal to me... there's something in the spontaneity and immediate truncation of it that forces me to appreciate it. I will never be clean again.
My head hurts and it forces my eyes closed. Close up on my dry knuckles, red with white veins of crispy skin... a mouth, a splintered wooden stick jutting out like a cock, her tears moistening it, black grease around her lips chapped and peeled... a Korean girl with teardrop eyes smiling white teeth behind red lips, pale skin, scent of stale almonds and overripe peaches; the sex smells like wet paper and tastes like ground cinnamon and citrus; her eyes are brown and dry and reddening... darkness is cold and loneliness is colder and i can't stand the heat... my candybar is made with frozen semen... my eyes sting with no sleep... they stare at me because I have nowhere to go and am alone... they wonder just how much sanity has escaped when i attempt to turn invisible by stripping myself down to the bone, chunks of flesh like soggy toast on the floor... my only meal is the lies i swallow... i vomit truth and it hurts my throat...
and now, someone turns on the light and bodies enter the room and i am again confronted with humanity.
i hate this place.