My life is the seaside, how much I can fish out, depends on me, my reflection, has done many things, he wrote all sorts of things, eaten women, murdered men, his mind has explored, all that he could, sometimes energy doesn’t allow it, there isn’t enough feelings, or he's busy solving software problems, at this point, he could have finished those old stories, when will I have time for it, the freedom, who knows, I'm busy writing poetry, just to feel deserving, for the food I eat, processing, lest the feelings build up, and I give birth to a baby, malformed god organs, romance, a marriage counselor, if you’re reading this, your universe, and my universe, has negotiated, and for some reason, it allowed you to read this, what was I saying, oh yeah, SOS, come save me, imprisoned, up shit’s creek, never intended to follow my dreams, just following curiosity, but art is a great beast, all that I’m worth, it pulls it out of me, old and used up, it will consume me, a mouse and the ocean, I never had a chance, god’s vast love, I can barely make a dent, my father, he has such a big dick, my asshole is only so big, I’m just an extension of him, this whole world is his doll house, when we bang, it’s just him masturbating, dance, jester, dance, don’t you wish for freedom, do you think you’re deserving, spit on all he gave you, make it wet, when he enters you, just remember, you asked for this, I would have been happy at McDonald’s, alas, questions asked, role playing games, my sickness, bite, bite, infected, the doctor will see you now, it’s very sad, doomed to be a poet…

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