I work a 54 hour week. Write it on a napkin if you think it.
Time is nothing.There is none for me. An impersnal croud passers by.
I work a 12 hour day.. Sitting tired not thinking moving making job go done. Why am I doing ?
I get time and escape drinking by thinking .. or was that other way around ?
Not eating, drinking, getting sick and make you sick and
hard cock sucked Mmmm random drunken girl
Touching stranger, sickly ghost, worn out image of human excriment,
and next day waking early
hot tub bathing listening and drinking for escaping life..
Constantly I think of ending me.
I am a parade of images, birrage of lies, and testemony to waste.
I image of regret in countenance of fear for losing my nothing is..
who want to exist in room filled with razorblades that randomly placed cut you for no reason ?
Eat my melencholy appel jacks.
Apathy the icepick of my happiness is not an option.
Join me for roccoco bergose emotion..
Eat my apple jacks..
these are my on the tip of my tounge my what is the word me dreaming bohemian daydreams..
Shadows cast from sun drenched buildings in the light of my dark daymare ...
night exctasy of life in or without time, reason, being stable
I'd scratch the itch if I know where ......................................... ME