There is no amount of kush on the planet that will take this edge off. Maybe an ocean of whiskey. Fuck beans that was a close one.
I guess this Being John Malkobitch life is good for something. You can live through my horrid existence and not have to get your shoes dirty.
So far you have seen loneliness, pain, desperation, joy, confusion and a general glaze of depression. Now you can add on near death experiences. And deep rooted fears.
I feel like I took ten thousand volts through my spine. If I were not a pathetic bachelor I would be, pardon my language, having quite voracious intercourse the evening through.
Sorry to go blue there. This is not a place for the thoughts of the flesh. Of touching and exploring and kissing and caressing. Not for the thrill of the arched back as orgasms course through your partner. Kissing the small of the neck. Nor for penetration, locking together for a brief moment being one.
This is strictly PG-13. We can say fuck, and show robot on robot violence but no dongs or conch.
I feel alive. Ish. Also horribly saddened by the state of affairs. As I fought for control I saw the faces I wanted to kiss. I am good. But I need to get my shit together for real for real.
For real For real
I have things I want to do. One of then is conquer the fucking world. Make people hear my words. Make people smile and laugh and realize some other mother fucker has been right where they are. Another kid or two would not be bad. Wake up and see the person I love. Show the kids that life is not fighting and material shit. It is simple things and hidden pleasures.
I am stuck in a loop. I need to break this cycle. Realize the place and person I long to be and make that shit real.
Got one more post in me. Love you.