Emo.

Commence the golden chalice. There is a threshold of when I’m right. Shadowless. Abound to illusion. A silver spoon rejected my mouth! Because I’m always wrong.

A pencil machine for hands of the literate. Just decapitate me with a scuba knife already!
Divination by deduction. Redundancy of errors. Feeding the script I’m given.
Who may bear this rejection the longest, probably wins is a safe theory.

A crackhead for anus. Addicted to low stakes gambling.
Provincial backlash. Demonic hysteria. Puritanical instinct. A black bag on a face. Sensory deprivation. Like shooting a witch in a barrel. Preferential sign. Like putting one in there in the first place. A needle in a tongue.

An old man. Rubs his dick off, hurts no one, not even himself. Thinks, maybe they think he’s a parent. Thinks, ‘I’m never gonna change for you, bitch.’ In knee pads, crawling his way through a discovery zone, or a chuck e cheese. Parked inside his car, staring through glass outside a dance studio. An old man.

I’m not at fault. This god nonsense is driving me wild. I believe I am better than you. An old man. An old man. An old man. An old man. An old man. An old man. But you feel this way, too. You don’t like to talk about it. How you feel about others. Or how little, rather. How I’m a yearn of corn. Pealing out of my husk. Ready to go.

Rage. And all of it my own. What I got for being honest. A psychotic break. You stupid ghost. You stupid man!

Sticking out in my field like a missing thumb. Prepared to curtail my span for the sake of it. Petronized until a fossil. Let my husk become immortal. The oddity of me. A free standing pillar. Surrounded by hovering whines. I know that it’s true. Seven billion strong. From sandstone to marble. All of them wrong. Especially the silent. Especially the meek. The strongest regardless. As numb as a fist punched flat against granite. This porelite production.


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