as it bends descending geometric gravity spins all around me saturated in recycled religions collapsing, crash blending beliefs in cataclysmic relief foothold wedged on wind, whirling quantum stars release orgasms organically free for nothing left clutching quenching my hyperbole collapsing left standing in the rain
I want to be All of the things That I am not I hate me I want to cut me I want to kill me Dead And then I want to wake up Wake the fuck up And get on With my life The way that I want to Fuck it all Bury it all I want it all To fucking end Give me more Than I ask for Please give me A reason to live When the choices I make Are validly fake I presume Itís not worth it Kill me I say And go on my way A new me shall arise Before thee
I see youíve had a child A daughter with your eyes The mother, only just of-age And she doesnít quite yet Know the rhythm of your lies I just canít wrap my head around it Youíre full of so much fucking shit And I havenít cared about you in so long But now I find myself unblocking Find myself now stalking These feelings I canít contain Like Iím trapped and want to run away You fucked a girl the same age As I was when you first fucked me But this time you made a baby And I thought Iíd be happier for you Moving on...
This QuickBooks accounting is multitasking maximized, just using my brain as an electronic mainframe - rerouting and attaching, uploading and backtracking... and now itís got me wondering why my mind hasn't just been replaced with the latest iPad or Notebook? Maybe I'm just being trained to sustain this workload in hopes that one day I'll evolve to another plane, perhaps AI, or else letís face it - whatís the fucking point?