I QUIT.
You can’t quit.
People don’t give a damn.
People are damned to begin with.
I’ll work in pharmaceutical sales and bribe doctors in prescribing amlodipine besylate to white-collared middle-aged carnivores.
You’ll get bored. You hate hard-spelling words and the concept of profit repulses you.
I’m not good enough.
They are not good enough to see what you are.
I’m on the brink of losing this fight. My body’s deteriorating into foul corpse and slimy worms are crawling their way to feed on my starved intestines
The spirit is willing but the body is weak.
I’ve always used that line when dealing with temptations. Drunken horny nights.
Dying a loser is tempting enough.
Even death disappoints. Anne Sexton must’ve been really pissed. One, two, fifty sleepasils.
Soul suffers even when not in wake.
I tried to book my escape, loading data… please wait.
The only way out is through.
You’re so unoriginal. I heard that before.
Everyone is merely fragments of everything he encountered.
HE. Why not SHE?
Everyone is merely fragments of everything it encountered.
Why it?
Why not they? Why not us?
Why not me?
This is just a phase. A temporary glitch.
Well, this glitch is scarring all sanity left in me. It hurts to breathe. It numbs to move. Time stops. I stand in a gap. The future is bleak. Excuse the bad poetry. I’m too fucked up to think of something poignant and gut-wrenching this time.
Misery is a writer’s companion. You’ve been too limited. It’s about time something sucked.
Suck rhymes with fuck. FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. If you say it repeatedly and fast, you'll sound like a sosyalerang duck.
Fuck rhymes with LUCK.
I need more than luck, I need a MIRACLE.