Wednesday, 20 June 2012

In the end no one really knows what to say to you.

People depress me by the end of the day no one wants to say anything to you, nothing.

I just unscrew the bottle and hand it to Nicky who get a light stare from a woman heading from a cheap pub, being cheap herself.

Her hood lifted up and she looks odd and we can see how cigarettes are a way to just to just slowly kill off the life we are handed but don’t need, a lot of us would just be happy not knowing ourselves or our existence.

It’s too dark and our bottle actually looks like water and is in a liter bottle of water with a peculiar smell.

Nicky grins as she glares.

“She needs a wank. Everyone needs a wank. Then you wouldn’t be fucking pissed at the whole fucking world and reading Cosmopolitan to have sex in fucking elevators.” And he laughs again.

We are also killing off our lives like that woman as we both lit a cigarette and start smoking it and catch briefly how the stars and the moon and the sky should look if there were not so many clouds.

I exhale.

Our lives is our curse, it’s not about God not loving us, he doesn’t exist, but it’s about giving us nothing and everything to do and our culture tells us to socialize which we don’t and then we go insane knowing that someone walked this road in the same steps, someone drank vodka in a water bottle and maybe someone smoked your cigarettes and now they recycled them.

I wish I could recycle myself and watch myself burn and die and hurl..

And vomit.

I look at Nicky.

Take another sip, think of the woman’s fanny and vomit, just like I did when I was a kid.

Maybe I should’ve came out to an ice cream van, but I did, just saying


I don’t like


Neither. Was his reply and we should’ve had sex.

I drink more after I vomit and Nicky is dazing out, fingers tight on temples.

Then I started having sex with women and it was a craving and you go mental if you don’t ejaculate, well, in a way you’re still getting waste products out.

You give your sins to a woman who judges your mate with his ring.

Or to your mate with the finger shining.

But neither of them turn you on and the clouds cover the rest so that everything will be a black hole which will never suck you in, because you rot on this land old after fainting and watching everyone ignore you, because they’re next and even if you shoot yourself with a gun

you miss.

You do.

So vomit again and take more cigarettes and do drugs to shield the mind and

I look.


I'm feeling better but now I've got lots of stuff to do so when I come back I just fall asleep, but I'll catch up whenever I can and thank you for waiting patiently and thank you


Definition of a Paper Crown

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