No, really. What... the... fuck?
Here I am in this morbidly obese, cum filled, shit magnet called llife. My life. The one given to me by God, my Mom, and my Dad. And i have nothing to show for it.
Just another lifeless body with a tortured soul taking up space and sucking up precious air. Waiting patiently for God to finally put me out of my wretched misery.
Got my beer. Takes away the constant fear that society has drilled into my brain. Like as if society was a huge purple dildo and skull fucked the shit out of me. Alcohol is funny though... it can either mellow you out or it can grab you by your taint and make you do things that even Charlie Sheen would say, "Holy shit!".
Got my smokes. It's like the American Express card... can't leave home without it. Something about a cigarette and how theres always a good time for a drag or two. Getting divorced? I need a cigarette. Awesome sex? Time for a drag. Just took a huge shit? Gotta light one up after that. A smoke puts the punctuatoin point on everything you do.
Got my health. Wait. If I drink and smoke like it's going out of style then i wouldn't exactly say i still have my health. But fuck it. I'm alive. Got all my limbs and i'm not a total moronic waste of human flesh. So i'd say i'm healthy. Or. As healthy as i can get at this point in life.
Life? Well "A" life i do not have so much of. Who am I kidding? I don't have any kind of fucking life at all.
I don't. I really don't.
There is no special someone in what is my "so called life". I lost all trust in women and any chance of developing a relationship with them. The relationships I've had were mini epic movies without the happy ending. Try 90's indie flicks were theres always a fucked up ending and no one is happy at all.
I've been more used up and trampled on than Rosie O' Donnell's giant tampon. Hire me as a spokes person for Kotex.
I'm convinced all women are evil and are Satan's dirty little whores to program men to do wrong or drive us completely bat shit crazy until we kill ourselves.
Don't get me wrong. I love women and everything they are. I got two wonderful sisters. I love both. I just can't seem to find a way to forgive or forget what certain ones have tortured and devoured my already withering soul. Not to mention puncture my heart and watched it bleed as if it was getting gang raped by 30 sex deprived, cum drenched, horny old men. And not one of them was wearing a condom.
But thats a whole issue in itself.
A job? What job? I'm a writer, a musician, and an artist. But i get paid for none of it. Nor do I even do any of it to begin with.
I can't seem to be sober for more than 2 hours for me to even think about getting or even performing at a real job. I'm a hardcore, one of a fucking kind, fuck up.
I'm good at being a fuck up though. But there's not a reality contest on television called "American Fuck Up" now is there? Not in this life time. Hmmm,... well maybe someone will think of it and do a really bad You Tube video of it. See,... there's always a little bit of sunshine trying to peek out of clouds sometimes.
But yet I ask...
What the fuck???
*********************************
What the fuck is right. More like what the fuck happened to me last night?
Apparently, I've managed to make my way to the good old train station where i will be heading back to the crusty asshole of California that I call home. I can smell the rotting, crab infested, drizzling snatch hole from here. Or is that me?
I'm pretty sure it's me. Must've been that skanky, yet adorable and sweet, blonde I met last night. I'm pretty sure I wore a rubber.
Fuck it, the nice breezy spring air will blow half the stench off of me by the time i get to the train station. Gotta think on the brightside of things you know.
Hopefully that girl,... ummmm,... what was her name again? Debra? Dani? It doesn't really matter given the fact that I'll probably already forgotten about her altogether by Noon. Which to my calculations is in about thirty minutes from now.
Anyways,... hopefully that girl won't try and find me later and think it's all fine and dandy becauseI'm not looking for something like that right now. Well, not from her anyways. That girl was kinda getting on my nerves. She was yapping and yapping about some weird bullshit about some guy she gave head to.
I mean I like a girl that talks alot. But her shit needs to make fucking some kind of sense in order to keep my attention.
I'm pretty damn sure she was amped up on about three different shit. Saw her do five lines right in front of me. There were a few moments where I thought she was going to O'D on me but she did her best Lindsay Lohan impression and popped back up like a good tweaker should.
Me? Usually I'll put anything up my nose, in my lungs, down my throat, or in my tummy. But lately I haven't been too keen on fucking up my organs that I might need one day. So no drugs for me.
I drank like it was Wrestlemania Sunday, my birthday, and someone's funeral all in one day. Might be why I can't remember much of last night. Where did i find her at? I can't remember the bar's name.
Fuck the bar. Fuck the girl. Fuck last night. It's time for my breakfast.
Ahhh! As I slide a nice little bottle of rum out of my jean pocket, all the blood in my body begins to rush to my "wee wee". Yes my penis. As I twist the cap and hear the pleasurable sound of a crackle, i ooze with bodily fluids drowning my genitalia with it's rich juices.
Gotta look out for cops. Good none in sight. I take a guzzle of rum straight from the bottle. Mmmm. Breakfast of champions.
Apparently, I've managed to make my way to the good old train station where i will be heading back to the crusty asshole of California that I call home. I can smell the rotting, crab infested, drizzling snatch hole from here. Or is that me?
I'm pretty sure it's me. Must've been that skanky, yet adorable and sweet, blonde I met last night. I'm pretty sure I wore a rubber.
Fuck it, the nice breezy spring air will blow half the stench off of me by the time i get to the train station. Gotta think on the brightside of things you know.
Hopefully that girl,... ummmm,... what was her name again? Debra? Dani? It doesn't really matter given the fact that I'll probably already forgotten about her altogether by Noon. Which to my calculations is in about thirty minutes from now.
Anyways,... hopefully that girl won't try and find me later and think it's all fine and dandy becauseI'm not looking for something like that right now. Well, not from her anyways. That girl was kinda getting on my nerves. She was yapping and yapping about some weird bullshit about some guy she gave head to.
I mean I like a girl that talks alot. But her shit needs to make fucking some kind of sense in order to keep my attention.
I'm pretty damn sure she was amped up on about three different shit. Saw her do five lines right in front of me. There were a few moments where I thought she was going to O'D on me but she did her best Lindsay Lohan impression and popped back up like a good tweaker should.
Me? Usually I'll put anything up my nose, in my lungs, down my throat, or in my tummy. But lately I haven't been too keen on fucking up my organs that I might need one day. So no drugs for me.
I drank like it was Wrestlemania Sunday, my birthday, and someone's funeral all in one day. Might be why I can't remember much of last night. Where did i find her at? I can't remember the bar's name.
Fuck the bar. Fuck the girl. Fuck last night. It's time for my breakfast.
Ahhh! As I slide a nice little bottle of rum out of my jean pocket, all the blood in my body begins to rush to my "wee wee". Yes my penis. As I twist the cap and hear the pleasurable sound of a crackle, i ooze with bodily fluids drowning my genitalia with it's rich juices.
Gotta look out for cops. Good none in sight. I take a guzzle of rum straight from the bottle. Mmmm. Breakfast of champions.
