brain on cocaine drains plane insane ity, lift me, split pea and ham
gives me the butterflies gives me away what the heck? I'm thinking
about what? people from my past, before I was this way. I'm thinking
about people from my present, and what they might say after reading
this. I'm judging everything i say, all the time. everything i do,
everything i say, everything i type, it goes through a screen, some
makes it through some gets censored. but what if everything just came
out, what if my hatred and love for the world was completely exposed?
what would happen then? the consequences would be, the worst that
could happen is that I would be alone and people would think i was
wierd. even after all the censure, isn't that where I'm left anyway?
hide everything or expose it all, you end up in the same place anyway.
all so basic are these thoughts. there's nothing in this world that
can make me happy. there's no safe place that I can imagine, I can
close my eyes to every creature, every thought and every consequence
in the world, it doesn't matter, i still can't imagine a place,
whether it be me a despotic sadistic leader of intimate perverse
fantasies my primal hunger being fed to excess, or my reality's wishes
granted no questions asked, it doesn't soothe me. ****, this, shit!
there's got to be a warm safe place, sitting in solitude before a
secluded mountain lake, or masturbating to death in the corner of a
psych ward cell, I don't see freedom, there's nothing for me.
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