Helping the masses understand insanity
Just a little bit better
Aiding contemplative suicides
And real men that don’t bother to use a mask
And already my heart aches
Like a swelling, slowly inflating
Far beneath my ribs, and decalcified bones.
Where I forgot
That I too am human
Pump me full of another drug
And I’ll soon forget again
Hopefully I won’t remember
How it hurts
To be real
Masturbate, music, migrate, massacre, mediate
All of the things
At the disposal of 18 years
These are the tasks of a writer
Changing the world with words of wonder
While asleep on the girlfriends couch.
Fighting hate and fuckery
From the armchair, blue pabst in hand.