The best way to change your personality is to change your face.
At this time, the night before mothers day I push forth emotions through grimy pipes. Nothing seems to flow from me as in nights of pure innocence that filtered pristine thoughts of not youth which still occurs but merely heaven. The source. No more twice sifted thoughts but pick about this splattered mess. Taste and tear bits that seem rational enough to be true. I don't do many alcohol induced entries.. if any. So like it damnit. You'd think presence... brought filth. Seems times things get dirty just as fast with no one there. What other creatures have come to inhabit the abandon. Cross vast expanses of pink porcelain might one small insignifigant, but obvious ant alone carry his fallen brethren. A moment of silence. An appreciation of solitude. A hate for solitude. A realization that you'd rather have the company of a corpse than yourself. Go forth and honor and revere this loved and lost. Almost there... you realise this is not one lone mans memorial parade... he's gonna eat the fucker. Understanding befills as you wonder what desperation could bring you to do at 2am alone with nothing but pink in sight... and no one to see... and a corpse. Disgust. Hatred for it, them and yourself. Pathetic. Thats when the water came sobbing down. Thats when the ground fed it's tears and swallowed it's snot and just like that it was gone and over and the memory so fresh yet disarming... it disappears. Too far gone before any lesson could be learned. Now the cannibalistic profit has become a communal deficit to a universe who could care less about a single ant, or anyone, or even itself. Front the bad with good. Good riddance. Goodbye.