Disjointed Heady Bullshit #2

I can’t sit fucking still in this shitsmelling cocksucking headfucking mindless heating hocking shit. How do you, how do you, how do you stand yourself muddled in mud, sickened with fear, heavy with stench, deadly with death. Why do you and why do you continue, how do you carry on carrying the heavy fuck load of youth of penance of blood tainted history gum on the sole of your shoe. You’re sticky, your sticky surface, your stinky covering, it sticks to my flesh. Get it off, get it off me, get off me, get off on me, get off. Take me into your arms between your thighs into your dreams into your mind. Don’t forget that we don’t owe I don’t owe they don’t owe me anything and still they sit, sitting still they wait, they wander, they wait and wait and wait for me to deliver when they know they sense they taste that I can’t fucking deliver. I am quickly turned, quickly shunned, quickly hated, quickened pace heartening hardening still ever faster ever deeper ever more sullied and wretched and fucked more fucked more fucking fucked. That’s what it does what they do what I do when it gets too big too much too soon I devolve into this heady joint. The words leave me they leave me and you leave me, leave me the fuck alone and it’s all I’m left with in my impertinent hand, a glorious pile of steady growing festering rotting aching fucking wanting breathing self-flagellating bullshit. And still I go still I follow still I turn round and round dizzying sounds thumping to that alien beat of a thousand marching planets on some distant supernova-sized system of meaninglessness where I wail and wallow and wish and pray to some unknown laughing fucker in a room full of black boxed presents that were never meant to be never meant for me never addressed properly never delivered because I can’t I can’t deliver anything but aforementioned aforewishedfor aforefuckedfor I am fucked for the everlasting everhoping everdrowning in my very own vat of creamy brown brewing bullshit.