i know things can be so well decorated that it looks like it’s christmas and it isn’t it’s fucking wasteland corruption tijuana dreamscape and vegas truth promise-ring meth generosity so it’s hard not to understand the universe as either a big joke or a very disingenuous, painful, meaningless series of disappointing, flimsy, lazy drownings, big fat annual birthday cakes with a few sleazy nightmares and dark alleys to crawl into for you when your IED’s get too hot and your body is covered in <90% third degree slum scars and there is no interest generated for all of this show we’ve been acting in and it’s just these ugly smiling goatees on the electric comcast deity but then it gets worse OR you do smack to feel better for awhile and die OR you fucking catch a hint and somehow figure out how to stupefy yourself without heroin/god/pills/hate or you fucking go mad and get a fever and die delirious in the streets after writing some dark poetry and some stories like edgar allen poe OR you turn yourself into jesus somehow and start a cult and progress until you become a living deity OR you just write your insanity to your friends on facebook and hope they still like you and don’t reject you as a human because they feel the same disconnected detachment and the purported arrogance of refusing to be in pain and refusing to live in an ocean of lies and a television of poisonous electricity so that you can just line your pockets with the documents of your horror and the horror of your documents until the signals tell you to fuck off back to society and listen to the mob and embrace groupthink and all of its backwards fucked up edicts until you die the way they tell you OR you kill society the way you want to until you remember you’re just made all too inferior for santa claus’ and cheddar filled hot dogs and weight loss fish krill combo pills and the hatefeed engine becomes so efficient you can’t resist and you turn into a fucking holographic prayer and a cloud janitorand something happens OR something doesn’t happen or something might happen or you try to make something happen and it refuses to happen and things are happening but they aren’t the things you wanted or they were trite and you die like you lived holding hands with faceless engineers and crass bosses that are genius in their stupidity and it just all stops and the screen goes black as a dead raven and you cry enough to feed the thirst of a city in the Sahara OR you’re just finally able to let go and stop giving a shit and honesty becomes your lie and doubethinking is the nirvana you find and things are GREEEAAAT! like the tiger cereal shit.

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