When you tilt the machine, that 💩 has to level out before any gets to play again.

When your poetic fart is a No Doubt parody

Don’t speak
They won’t get what you’re sayin’
Don’t bother with explainin’
‘Cause all they’ll hear are words

Life is what happens when your amphetamine salt level just bottomed out.

The Martyr in My Mind

Still fathoming five years actively allowing my insides to spill out into darkness like tentacles feeling their way through foreign soil to tactilely trace the unknown, with all the curiosity of a sheltered child being welcomed into Disney World, without anything reaching out to touch me back.

When the thought of creating makes you sad.

Not sure how to write anymore since one invariably writes for an audience. Seems art is the same way. It is already in my head.

I suppose I could create a sorry-you-missed-me page before tearing the blog down for the random MB help center traffic.

Everything is empty calories. I feel emaciated.

How many more attempts at making a civil war sparking martyr out of some powerless fucker who’s lost every election since 2016 and whose current presidential bid’s been dead in the water since 2019 does our bifurcated information ecosystem intend to foster? Fuck it. Let’s all kill each other.

Might be time to move this fucker to a physical journal and off the interwebs.

And if sooo
If sooo
Who answers?
Who answers?

Why does it matter to me that the bear cam live stream I am watching is actually within the 12 hour ballpark of being live?

The 🦇 💩 thing about reality is that we all describe the same one.

Unmarked
Unclaimed
Unloved
Untamed

The skip-intro bro stands upon the shoulders of the commercial-pass lass. Who’s that climbing up his torso?

Pussy moderators do not a merged reality bubble instigate

When you’ve just made use of the ubercommon expression “make of that what you will” and it is as if some super secret context lock lifted and my make-of-it Zanpakutō suddenly achieved it’s Bankai release.

When saying something is the wrong decision every time.

When you realize that had you not tossed all those button up shirts you could totally have constructed a pocket-sash.

He turned knowledge into wisdom and the unknown into the known

When you say the wrong thing

I’ll imagine myself an amoeba amelt in a sea of acid jazz.

I suppose stating something aloud denotes intention in a way thinking something cannot, even to oneself; because, part of the human experience is questioning morality within our own heads and all manner of nasty shite might appear, to our own horrors and with intent levels approaching zero.