Earth is a funny fucker of a place. For some reason, simply being content with life is beyond me. When I fell in love I couldn't have the one who inflamed me. When I wanted to FEEL love I never quite knew if I did. All this candour now is endemic of a complete fucking lack of the same up to now. Project an image of success, and you will succeed. For so the fifties says, does Matt the half-autistic sociopath follow. And what the fuck else could I do, eh? I'm not a monster, I'm just lazy. Of course, George Bush is lazy... Maybe you see what kind of lazy I'm referring to here. If not, I'll clarify in the comments. Back to the not sure statement above; I am NEVER, EVER, EVER, certain of anything. There were these religiously beautiful moments with my ex-girlfriend when I felt completely and profoundly melded with her, but in between those moments I was always afraid that I might be lying. I think... See what I mean? She IS better without me, to be sure, as are any of you with any ideas
Anyway, I'm really overdue to either get raped, stabbed, beaten up, robbed, sold into slavery or become a politician. With those options very precisely laid out, I hereby choose; writer. And boy don't I half give myself plenty of material to play with.










hope youve seen my complete gallery [link]
--
{[Misery, filth, disease all things
that bring suffering to the world only make
Phyrexians more dangerous]
--
"it's a sin when success complains"
--
The world is an eraser for these words
- Jack Kerouac
we must destroy that which contains us
--
Joseph
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