Creatures of repetition and conditioned habits, continually circling to find our tails, inevitably between our legs, and we shiver in cowardice for shame, worried to the point of pissing in our pants for the preservation of our stupid and insolent reputations, the way others perceive and the warped inflection on the words we say about ourselves, the denial in the mirror, the forgotten commitments... you are the only member of the family who has forgotten and the rest look on with disgust but also thin pity, there are numbers in your eyes, dollar signs on your breath, your heart is gold and your hands are bronze like a statue... realize sickeningly, with distrust and distaste in my mouth, my veins bulging and bursting, grind the teeth. There is a constant grimace plastered onto my face with jaw tight and the reason is petty ignorance and the lack of reception to my personality, the denial of understanding and the fear of the unknown, the history repeats and we may as well die today with such blissful repetition to have in the future, I want a bigger question mark, though we all deny until we die, we fight within ourselves until the self is killed and the social standings mark our bodies with pins and needles, the yearly tribute to the downfall of America as we know it.
Realize sickeningly that I rarely tell good stories. I am immediately thwarted and duped. It's the crowd. It is the oppressive nature of my world. It's my head. It's everything. Misunderstand me please. I fucking appreciate it. Everything should be out in the open. Be expressive. Let me know your darkest secrets. Forget your trivial reputation. To live your life based on the opinion of others will poison your heart. You soul will burn in a huge societal fire. Every building will collapse! Yes Jesus! Strike down the liars who earned their keep through nefarious means, let them suffer a sudden ailment, in order to reduce traffic, congestion, the spread of illness through the air, or procreation and contraceptives and infinite sadness through their dried up veins.
A hollow promise, the reputation, the faces to impress. The lack of concern for such awful things. These things are the plague of existence. These are the reason so many men die happy lives without any meaning. Devoid of honest hours lived. Based on the sensory pleasures and a constant ability to numb the senses other than pleasure. The ability to stay numb and sedated. Head in the clouds and the anger resounds. Unhappy again with the situation based on my appraisal of it. Repetition. Alone again in the cold place to write and then probably drink a few. Ridiculous to think of why not. No one wanted to listen to me or my stories. I felt the stagnation and the stuttering. The horrible feelings based on my past. It is a forgotten mystery. No one gives a fuck about it. Sad and angry.
I need to change my life.
Your reputation does not define you. Stop wasting time.
