I am rotting from the inside out
yet every day I wake up feeling blessed.
blessed for having been born and having survived this long.
blessed by the omnipresent fragrance of death.
beckoning its call. sounding it's whistle.
it's in the light. the shadows. the cricks in my bone.
the taste of this cigarette.
this half drunken bottle of wine.
these crumbs of bread.
and like me the wine rots.
waiting to be enjoyed.
waiting to serve a purpose.
to have meaning.
to drift along with the sea.
I am rotting from the inside out
Let's bomb Pakistan. We've got enough nuclear bombs to destroy the world 20 times. What are we waiting for? Let's drop them all at once. Who gives a fuck? but even then the people would still complain. The bombs didn't drop fast enough. the explosions weren't big enough. "hurry up and Die" they say. you only destroyed 9/10ths of the world. there were still some cockroaches left wiggling. they saved the best for last. one last hail mary of the nuclear football. here to devastate mankind.
Maybe I'll build a bomb in my back yard. Just strong enough to kill 10 people. Maybe then they'd listen.
Humans are worse than rats. At least rats know how to share space. at least rats know what love is. we can love like they do. Like the rats in the sewers. under piles of used paper and soaked in warm liquids. hidden beneath the cardboard in the rain. washing it all on top of us. we can love like they do. with our teeth and hands firmly grasping whatever piece of the world we have left. the rats don't wait. They're just here and now. Dressed in the sludge of their existence. eating and fucking the day away.
I was walking with friends through a building. We entered the last room and in it were women scntaliy clad in red sports bras and short red shorts. some with rollr skates on. All looking disappointed. I complained that no one was dancing. that I'd come all this way and only one guy was dancing. Someone mistook my complaining to mean that not enough men were dancing. I begrudgingly left and made my way to an army base at the top of a gigantic hill. Once I got inside the guard was quick to tell me I could leave if I was going to bitch about anything. I guess I was there to sleep. suddenly a man in full bhuddist gear grabbed me. I tried to get him to let go but the look in his eyes, He was desperately trying to tell me something. I noticed the way his chin sat. and his droopy eyes. It was my Father. we looked at one another. happy to be seeing each other in the flesh. I told him "look dad, I got old. ." I looked into a mirror. we were in my grandmothers house, but yet it was the old way my own childhood home's living room was set up. we both agreed I was getting older. "you got it worse then I did though." . "yea" he said as I looked at the crease flowing down under his eye. like a giant scar from a knife fight. yet the culprit being Time. then I heard my former room mates talking in their kitchen they were complaining about the ants and making assessments that it must be coming from my part of the building. Of COurse. Me and my dad were walking along a spiraling colluseum outside when my former room mate walked by saying something smarmy about my dads dress. "YOU CAN SEE HIM?" I jumped out of my skin. "this is my dead father. its a Ghost. a real Live ghost!!" She quickly ran back to her room to grab her camera. "No you can't take a pictuire of him he's a Ghost!" I shoute trying to save her some time. She quickly returned and snapped the photo and walked off in a bitchesh manner. only letting me glimpse at the undeveloped picture on the back of the camera in the memory. I could see a bright light in the picture but sure enough there he was. "See? it's just some con artist. He's probably been ten different peoples father this week" I was upset at her but then when I looked back at the man I assumed was my father, there stood a fat bald man who was obviously insane. He looked at me with a child like innocence. So obviously not my father. How Could I have been foole so easily about something that familiar. He grabbed at me and I pushed him away. I went into another building where there were guys and girls in what looked like waiter uniforms you'd find in fast food quarters. There was a pretty girl who I felt compelled to flirt with even though we didn't know each other. She turne to her friend and told him I was obviously insane. I guess my face was twitching or I must not have looked well at all because she reacted almost violently. I wondered about myself. How far I'd come down the ladder of success. How hideous I really was... I made my way through one final store within the corridor of the Colosseum. The crazy homeless man still following me. He sudenly rippe at my shirt. Grabbing it and choking me in a frantic manner. He pointed at the tables and thats when I noticed we were at a Train meet. I looked at him. It WAS him. I knew it! who the hell goes to train meets anymore? NO ONE. So I gave him a hug and he watched me leave. I walked along the outside of the building. there were some boxing gloves on the ground. two pair. I put on one of the pairs an began punching at no one. and crying my eyes out. the passerbys were all gocking for surely I must have looked insane. But I knew what I was doing. I was fighting the pain.
Some how I ended up sitting on an airplane. mid row. window seat. but on this plane every passenger had their own steering gauge. for safety purposes I imagined. in case the pilot wasn't watching then any one of us could grab our own steering wheels and fly the plane ourselves. It made perfect sense to me. But I had to keep fighting the urge to crash the plane. We were flying along the tips of the buildings below us. A skyscraper stood in front of us. and some steered the plane right into the fucking thing.
Thats when I woke up. startled and emotional. I rested my for arm on my for head. I heard the train whistle blow. it was 2 AM. Is that you dad? I said to myself.
you must ultimately sympathize with the characters perspective through the narrative. Tell the story as he or she would prefer. Third person but through the eyes of their god. Not just God the writer. Cubby taught me that.
And it's just one simple line after the next. Pace. timing. language. style. grace. that's what Hank said.
and Kill them all. let them all fry. William said.
but have fun. says jack.
hunter said watch the watchers. and don't wait for no one.
and edgar said it's beautiful. no matter ho hideous.
"it would be so easy my love if we were together. I could just tickle and poke you and you'd start being nice" i said digressing my qualms in dealing with the consequences in being in love with a very stern yet brilliant woman that lives so far away. denying my powerlessness to immediately change her attitude.
"you do that and I'll knock your teeth into the back of your throat" she says nonchalantly.
"oh the things you say to me love. my heart flutters" I happily respond.
"you are so sick baby. I'm talking about knocking your teeth in and all you hear is puffy hearts floating in your mouth."
tee orchen krastivaya
( kra cee vie ya )
ya ti bie lublu
"red light green light. thats all guys want. just want to fuck and go"
we can be perverts together and no one can call us perverts anymore. we go beyond the grade. the exception to the rule. harmony in disruption. unity in displacement. loving being loved and loving the person for loving you. and loving the person by showing them what your love looks like.
secrets. forbidden fruits. evil deeds. all done in good spirits. accomplishing nothing but the thrill that comes from being alive. wasting time thinking about it only makes it worse. doing it only makes it happen. so either way you're fucked.either way you're not gonna win.
"you might as well get in a good donkey punch while you can. cuz that's all you're really gonna get." my friend john from seattle tells me.
:she took all his money. and she's gone for like 8 hours. so he calls her and she gives him some sob story about how her eye was leaking. "she did have an eye infection though to be fair but still!? and then she tries to give me some Fake shit" the women will always get their way. as long as they have a pussy worth fucking. as long as they have a smile that doesn't scare children. as long as she isn't missing too many teeth. so that she can still perform a decent blow job. women will always get their way.
You don't watch when you're going down the slide. you just enjoy the ride. while you're climbing up you have already committed yourself to the dance. so the anticipation builds. and once you reach the top you see the other edge of the mountain. and you're free. the moment is yours. the world can't stop you. you've reached the top. and now there's nothing left to do but jump! throw your feet over the edge and let your self go free. to enjoy the splendor that comes from the ride. and she is my ride. and I'm climbing as fast as I can to get to the top of the ladder so that I can at least see the horizon. If I never get to jump then I will just later appreciate the anticipation I felt in having been tempted into achieving that goal. having a muse. having an announcement to make. not that needs to be heard nearly as badly as it is needing to be spoken.
I'd really like to just rape her with a broken plunger. all the way from her ass to the back of her throat. like a roasted pig. except instead of an apple I'd stick fresh cut razor blades in her mouth. and duct tape her mouth shut and make her chew. jab a sharpened pencil into her back repeatedly. cut up her face and poor gasoline on the wounds. tear the duct tape from her mouth and make her spit out the blades and with her hair firmly gripped in my hand whisper in her hear that she's only got moments left to live so she better enjoy them. she could spit blood in my face. scream from the top of her lungs. cry like a baby. none of it would matter. it would only serve to gratify me that much more. Please let me hear you scream. let me hear you moan until you're out of breath. and once you're out of breath shake you by your hair and piss on your face. let the piss and the blood stream down. cut off your ears so that you go deaf. piss in your eyes making you blind. the loss of blood making you weary. the flickering of the light letting you know that you're still alive. But I will be quick to remind you that for how long is up to me. what light you see is what light I allow you to see. the piss and the gasoline fumes gagging you as you try to gasp your last breath. hoping to survive. and the joy i derive from your false hope. knowing that at any moment that I can end your suffering. that you know nothing but suffering and that soon I will end your life completely. I think about you often my love. and the many ways in which I would love to return the anguish in which you bestowed me.
I've started studying french. every word is filled with passion. every syllable is pronounced with a subtle urgency that makes every word poetry. it's not Russian but i figure once I get this one down and develop the ability to understand the differences in languages concerning pronunciation and context I will be more prepared to learn more difficult languages. I want to learn French well enough so that I can enjoy the works of.
Appollinaire - drunk
"Huysmans à rebours (against the grain)"
"Les chants de Maldoror"
comment dis tu ..
tu es très belle
tu es mon seul et unique amour
tu es une fille brillante
je t'aimes vraiment beaucoup?
tu me rends très heureux
je vais te voir bientôt
est-ce que tu m'aimes
putain de merde
nique ta mere - fuck you mother
salle de bains - bathroom
chat - cat
chien - male dog
chienne - female dog
tu es cinglée cinlge'
tu es folle / fou
tu es givr'ee givr'e givre- ice/crazy
s'il te plait - please.
je te hais - i hate you
je te hais
je t'aime - love you
je t'ai aimé i loved
je t'aimais have loved
je t'aimerai will love
je t'aimerais would love
je t'aurais aimé would have
on fait des progrès - you are getting better
hiboux - owl
callioux - little stone
choux - food
bijoux - jewlery
drole - funny
rigolo / rigolotte - funny incident
c'est - its
c'est tre's drole
nous sommes - we are
vous etes - they/you are
ils sont - they are
tu es america
inte'ressant - interesting
c'est tre's inte'ressant
pardon - excuse me
quoi? - how
il n'y pas de quoi - you are welcome
je ne sais pas quoi -
n'importe quoi - important what?
moi aussi - me too
moi non plus me niether
incroyable - amazing..
elo get letzebuergesch geleiert hei - now i have to have to learn luxemgurbish
tu es incroyablement givrée
plus doux - very good
comment de tu -
je vais au magasin
je vais aux magasin
je vais des courses
chanson - song
j'aime les chansons, l'art et la musique
je parle très lentement - i speak very slowly
doucement - soft slowly
je comprend I
tu comprends you
tu as compris
triste - sad
malheureuse = evil
je fais de mon mieux
lentement mais surement - slowley and surely
excuse mon français
nuit - night
minuit dix à Luxembourg
j'excuse ton comportement i excuse myself.
c'est très vrai its is true
c'est la vérité its the truth
gentil - gental male
gentille - gentle female
à plus - see you
will I waste today like I've wasted all week? will I sit here and think about what I could be doing rather then just actually getting up and doing anything of what I'm supposed to do? or will I just lie here? waiting on what ever it is I'm waiting for. people to shut up. jokes that are funny. for sex that's worth a damn. Love that isn't hopeless. waiting for the drugs to kick in. the cashier clerk to ring up my total. the doctor to call out my name. waiting for the light to change. the water to boil. for a moment when I don't feel like I'm waiting on anything. for a moment when I finally find something real.
...and So I drink and I smoke and eat what little food I have left while I wait some more. waiting for the indifference to settle. waiting for the sun to come up. waiting for the sun to go down. waiting for so long that I forget what it was I started waiting on. I guess men of my predisposition have always been the last in line. there are those that wait and those that are weighted on. I guess I'm waiting to find someone out there that's waiting for me. Someone who's anxious when I'm not around. and satisfied when I arrive. looking to me as their sunrise and their sun set. someone who will watch over me with approval. adhere to my charms. appreciate my worth. Someone who can stop time. if even just for a moment.
in the beginning there was nothing.
then god created. man. also known as an anarchist.
then there were two anarchists. oh yay. someone to trade and make things with.
but then came a third. and with that came the blessings of competition.
but then a fourth came and they were even once again. all free to trade and compete and build together.
but then came a fifth. and with that fifth member came the all encompassing curse of eternal damnation known as mob rule.
and all these people were stuck living in a geographical location.
well we've got french people up north
and spaniards down south that say we do. and they've already formed a mob and they're organized. and they would love the opportunity to take our shit so we had better form our own mob so we can defend ourselves against all the other mobs around the world.
so since we're stuck here we should make some agreements.
give me a bottle of wine and a naked woman. everything else is extra.
we were talking about the ghetto. and how fabulous it can all be. she said something about a woman in high heels. Gold studs. tacky taken to the extreme. "its a thing unto itself" i proclaimed. "thats why its beautiful".
every bodies got opinions. yea I got opinions too. I think we're all crazy. time is short. and whatever chances you've got to take you better take em while you can cuz most don't come twice.
so I cut natalias hair for her. straightened out some edges. so I'm an emo faggot that cuts hair now I suppose. I learned how to use scissors in the 2nd grade. I remember watching one of the kids eat glue. is Emo still a word? or have we done away with it yet like we did disco. I just can't afford a hair cut. so I either cut my own or I end up lookin like a hippie. and now I dress well because of my ex. luckily we're in san francisco though where no one can tell the difference. otherwise a guy like me could never get laid.
I spoke about Katja and how unbelievably perfect I believe her to be . she had called me on the phone the night before. sad from news that her child hood pet had died. she was in utter disarray. no matter her condition though she is always graceful in all of her actions. we were talking on the phone but then came the sound of her tumbling out of bed followed by the clunk and the phone going dead. even falling out of bed drunk she's elegant. an absolute dream. a hand full but still not enough. I told natalia. "she's like the girl that takes boys behind the tree at recess and does things you're not supposed to" she is holy to me. K asked me why I had slept with so many girls when I was younger. "because I'm a whore" I replied. to which she bursted out with laughter then singing the chorus to an old familiar big black song. girls. girls and their meaning. but there's something to be said about a man that knows what girls like. how she wants it where and why , when, and for what reason. there's always gotta be a reason. yet we're all unreasonable. we all want everything to be perfect but yet we all want something different.
we noticed "mark" across the street had a girl with him. and he was wearing sunglasses for the first time. I guess that gig he has playing cello for van morrison finally paid off a little. or a lot just not at home at least. what do I know. she was talking about 1984. and the new speak. I mentioned my parody once again. we drank more cheap wine and tried to play music. her songs are all needing an orchestra. mine all needing a tavern.
jason awoke to a jovial crew. the wine having done its trick. they ordered pizza. we talked and waited for the pizza. Nalalia was talking about her choir and songs and arangements while waving her finger in the air pete came charging into the driveway putting two bright spot lights on natalia as she conducted the pretend orchestra in her head.
once the pizza arrived they turned on a television show on the computer. like the internet never was. next will come beer advertisements, super bowl games, and presidential elections. but anyways. the show went on...something about time travel and some bald guy running around a cemetery... all was fine and exciting until
a car crash.
6 friends dead, myself having survived 6 crashes myself. having seen dead bodies. broken bones and blood covered faces and here it was being used as a climatic scene in a generic broadcast tv show. ptsd is a bitch. it's like a parrot that only squawks when you don't want him to. like a chalk board that's only made for scratching.
the scenery. the lighting. the sets. the costumes. the photography. all that's interesting I guess. but the story. the acting . the direction. it's always miscalculated in my view. too much at once. the actors never say their lines right. they never have the right punctuation. they don't stress the right words. they pause and blink too much. it's not real like it is in my head. when you read you're stopping yourself and giving yourself a moment to think. when you watch you're not thinking. you're reacting. it's like the difference between eating and being fed. to me that is.
every day I wake up feeling reminded by something of how tough I am. or how tough I have to be. most things unwanted. every direction exhausted. all avenues explored. every experience granted now charted and having now become ashed remains. most of the real magic in safe keeping. like a secret not worth telling because no one knows the story anyways. like a joke without a punchline. every step. every breath. every thought. all a thing unto itself.
1st genealogy born. flood. elvis. moved to the country
2nd scar burned. dads thumb. house. lost diaper adventure, tricycle in the driveway w/ an 18 wheeler
4th school early. tricia. driving pops boat dad skiiing behind
6th piano, tricia stops playing, dad santa castle grey skull, modeling or macys
8th family breaks up,,car stranded winter no electricty forgot the keys,
9th wesley dies, the stokes family, remarries
12th amy brown
13th smoking pot, punk rock negative creep/cold and ugly, 4leanna, her friend, 3jamie, 2candy, 1avery morris
14th the shmidt family
17th crystal, mellow yellow, micha, john, pot, joe the monster truck meth dealer
21st acid bicycle drunk trailor park skinhead funk band
23rd - puppy katt , 8 am practices, dads basement squashed tarantual ,dream man
24th heroin, dead meat
25th dead meat
26th dead meat
27th hevy duty, tacky
I can be whoever whereever whatever I want when I want. forever and ever amen.
I had asked a guy over the internet that was in Israel if he thought 10:30 was too early in the morning to start drinking. he told me he thought I was being childish. so I chastised him.
"What about Charles Bukowski?"
"well look at the musicians though. they didn't last very long" he replied.
"well thats cuz they didn't have enough method to their madness." i stated in defense as I popped the cork and started enjoying my beverage.
the phone rang. It was Natalia. acting chipper as usual.
"what are you doing?" she asked.
"What do you think I'm doing?" I asked rhetorically.
"drinking wine?" she responded. I could tell she was smiling on the other end.
"how old are you 23? 24?" I gingerly commented.
"I'm 29." she said with a long ending nine.
birthdays. I stopped counting mine years ago.
I hadn't been invited or else I probably would've tried to show more restraint concerning the bottle I'd bought the day before. but I knew once I saw her number come up on my phone that my invitation had finally arrived.
"do you want to come with us? some friends of mine are throwing me a little get together"
after some fun discussion I finally agreed to take a shower and put on some clothes and meet them once I had myself together. on my way to the shower I was greeted by my indifferent room mates. boasting with laughter. then quieting once I passed through. I took a nice long shower. something I don't normally do. I guess the wine had slowed me down enough to enjoy it this time. once I got out I could sense the quietness outside again. I went back in my room passing by sour looks and blasted some exciting music. "Sightings / Absolutes" while the music blasted I had trouble figuring out what went with what as far as clothes were concerned.
brown blazer. yellow tie. blue button up.
blue shirt yellow tie brown cardigan.
no. that didn't work either.
I noticed the time and went with a tried and true. whatever works.
as I was brushing my teeth I noticed a humongous zit had emerged on my right nostril. "now thats just great." I said under my breath to myself as I spit out a mouth full of tooth paste.
I got my keys, my drugs, took one last quick sip of wine and headed down stairs.
knock knock. Natalia greeted me. looking as rushed and confused as ever. yet calm and resolute. Scott gave me a warm greeting. everyone smiling. I was tired though. and made no illusions that I wasn't.
we gathered ourselves and made our way to the train.
the train was jam packed with people. standing room only. we slid our way into the middle of the aisle and braced feet as the doors closed and the train started to ride. along the way Natalia told me of a new song that she had written which she sang into my good ear. the train was screaming but her soft melody was transcending and I listened carefully as we roared under the ocean.
once we got to town Scott left us to pick up his bike and we gave each other some simple farewells. I followed Natalia up the escalator and around the bend. I'd follow her nearly anywhere. cause where ever she's going there's fun to be had. once we got to a certain street we turned left and were faced with a very steep hill to climb. I turned and walked it backwards. She walked up behind me talking the entire way. even when she's out of breath she's got words she's trying to spit out. she was telling some story about how she saw some friend of hers and she couldn't tell if the person had seen her or was ignoring her and how she had helped her move into the house next door to the house we were going to.
as she finished her story we arrived. at which point we were very graciously welcomed by her hosts. The place was immaculate. great furniture. wide open spaces. good music playing. a giant back yard. with beautiful trees. After scoping out the place one of her hosts opened up a bottle of champagne. I worried that that might be all there was to drink. but my fears were quickly resolved when he offered "hey we've got lots to drink. there's champagne. we've got white wine. red wine"
"red... please" I said feeling relieved.
a nice tall dark glass of red wine appeared in a nice glass that I quickly took to sipping on as I went back to scoping out my new surroundings. they talked about everything that came to mind. I did my best to not seem out of place. They seemed friendly enough though so I didn't worry too much.
as they were discussing the choir and a certain member in particular named Sarah that Natalia laughed "the hot one". which I guess everyone was in agreement with me about since it was enough of a consensus for Natalia's joke to be fully understood. A knock on the door. and speak of the devil in came the hot one dancing and bursting with energy. the volume of the conversation immediately changed. suddenly there were 3 conversations happening at once. in 3 different directions. all mostly being directed by the girls in the room.
I sat and tried not to stare. I had noticed her at the show a few weeks prior. but then again who didn't. they were talking about things I always have no where to go with. work. college. school. places I've never been. things I've never seen. people I've never met. But I did my best to nod and inject whenever I saw fit without being imposing. another knock. and more beautiful women.quickly the house was filled with beautiful women all with warm spirits and heart felt smiles. Some just stopping in for a moment. some pouring themselves drinks and settling in. Her mother and sister stopped by along with her little niece who must have been 1. maybe 1 and a half at the most. we laughed as her niece put on Natalia's shoes as Natalia put on her tiny shoes. the way they waddled in perfect unison being the funniest of all. like a school of fish. the gene pool never being more obviously conveyed.
Scott dished out some excellent looking orderves. some kind of fruit with goat cheese and what looked like parsley or mint. they looked excellent but I passed on them anyways. Natalia sang her new song for everyone. and we all sat and stood quietly. except for her niece who much like her aunt demands attention. her sister took her off to enough of a distance for Natalia to get through her new song and we all enjoyed it and genuinely applauded once she was finished.
The drinks kept coming and I kept drinking. I asked him what kind of wine he was serving. If it was french or Californian. He seemed to think it was local. If it was local it was a good blend. not quite as meaty as I prefer it but tasty and not too sweet and not at all spicy.
One of the guests was boasting about her worldly travels. another complaining about how she's never been adventurous enough. the night smoothly running it's course till it was time for her family to leave with the tiring child. And with them leaving they left all of us feeling like we could smoke and drink a little more casually.
The music got louder as did the conversation. laughing out loud. joy being passed around in glasses and through pipes. My eyes kept wandering in the same direction even though they were surely unwarranted. So I kept drinking and smiling with smiling people. politics in music. politics in politics. why what songs were being played and who was playing them. the city. the country. what the future will be like. and how the past looked so far.
on our way home. the moon was as full and bright as I've ever seen it. street lights weren't necessary. I stopped in one of the liquor stores along our way back to the train and grabbed me the cheapest bottle of red french wine they had. not a bad selection just as Scott said before I rushed in. on the train we found seats and felt good. good people. doing good things for good people. why do we have to wait for the day that we're born to celebrate being alive?..
I sold myself off. I gave it away. I put up the cost. it's all a matter of what's right? what's true? what matters? when you really get down to it. there's nothing more powerful then truth. there's nothing more inhibiting or refreshing. nothing more important. you can't fuck with truth. you either have it or you don't. how much time is left? how many minutes? forever you say? is that all?
I gave you my life. it wasn't enough. my life has never been enough for anyone. no matter where I roam. I ask. I beg . I demand. its all the same. life is pathetic. life ais a joke. life is meaningless. life is a fart. life is an orgasm. life comes and it goes. no one know no onw cares. nore willl they ever. its as meaningless as slicing a goats throat for satan. its as meaningless as jerking off. you know the girl on your computer screen doesn't know you. but you like watching her get fucked anyways. cuz for one brief shining moment you're not the one getting fucked. no one cares . nor will they ever. its all a meaningless game. whos ahead this time? whos ahead right now. what does that even matter? as long as they don't have nuclear weapons to prove their point. I fought for love. I fought for it in all of my actions. but I was never good enough. I never mattered enough to anyone to be worth fighting for. not to the fat fuck in missouri not to the only woman who ever tried to love me in california.
she tried at least. I guess I'm just not born to be loved. I guess what I'm worth is wrthlessness. I prove that you can in fact be comepletely and utterly useless to the world. and yet still try to Have a point. I shake hands. I greet people with smiles. I show kind gestures. I show people my good intent. never is it enough. never is my attempt to live a fullfilling life worth the effort. never is my attempt to eb worthy of someone elses time been proven truthful. so here I am . and there I go. like a fart in the wind. like an aborted fetus that was spared life. like a dead fly spattering and flapping his wings. fighting for that last breath. fighting for the reason. the only reason any of us will ever know. to stay alive? a fly fights for the right to exist so that it can eat shit! is that all I am. a fly. I came in and I came out of your window. you shoed me away aw quick as you could. without reason. just because I invaded your space. I asked you for permission to exist. I asked you if you could see me. I asked you if you knew I was there. and you responded YES but that you wish I hadn't. every where I've gone everything I've done. was all for my own ammusement. too bad I was the subject of liars and thieves. heartless vandals that would just as soon slit my throat then offer me a meal. no beginning no end. because there was no meaning. no meaning what so ever. no beginning no end because there was no value bestowed upon me and mine. my thoughts. my love. my ambition. all self generated. for self gratiification. just as all humans act. nothing special . nothing important. just antother grain of sand on a desert island yet having been discovered. and even when discovered labeled something else. and treated as an object.
nothing matters. there no reason to even write this passage. there's no reason to een think these thoughts. it will never matter to no one. the end.