And if you ever had a heart one of those red-beating organs full of blood and cookable things that go well with white italian wine you should have realized that all of them have one too even prosthetic even full of shit or full of love or both at the same time but never too dark never too full of hate and shame and forgiveness and self-compassion and many other things they don't dream about cause maybe they don't know they are real but you do and oh here comes the great genius of all history come on show us your greatness and say something and oh you can't you are still that idiot (see first paragraph) who can create worlds in his mind but is too afraid of things to be in the middle of a word even spoken to anyone who isn't inside his 5-cm safe area and of course is never going to shake hands and smiles with those good looking fellas and LET'S HAVE ONE BIG APPLAUSE of course is not getting his mouth into those tight-dressed girls neither his cock nor his heart and oh you will find this interesting they won't care cause they won't ever know who you are and if you worth that much or not and if you want to be inside of them as I am inside of you but even on better and wetter ways this will hurt you but is not going to happen like uh never never never in this life nor the following one if something like that is allowed to exist not in your case probably.
And if you ever want to be far from this thoughtful existance there is only one way and is filling your poisonous head with better music than actual life is not even needed to be that good but to be able to grab it from the wings and fly far from here for a minute far far far further and higher in the sky just to end and fall from the furthest place ever possible and feel good for a moment cause this is the only good feeling you'll ever have if you keep living on this damned side of life close to East End of Everywhere here life born and dies every day and so is yours and here you won't have to care about this things such as family or work or friends or money or food and shit and drink and sex and handjobs and all that stuff that takes your time and never returns it and once you are free from all that you can kiss the gutter as your new friend lover and whatsoever and keep waiting for someone to save you from mediocrity and that's maybe a higher word to describe how rich will be your new life instead of all that you could have if you had born into any other body any other head any other family any other country not so fucked up and so easy to blame about all your hurts and all the blood with his name that you manage to keep bleeding without dying and you will have to tell me that secret towards inmortality that secret to live and bleed at the same time without being always so fucking sad.
She does not love you she does not love you she does not love you and she never will and that's not her fault cause face yourself in that inner mirror of yours and sorry for the rudeness but I know that there are people this kind of strange ones you know and even them get to be loved sometimes for a minute or five or a week and from time to time forever but that is not your type nor theirs and she does not love you and even when she said she wasn't meaning that way you wanted to be cause she is not a superheroin not a government worker you understand boy she is not obligued and you are not entitled to have a love that you don't deserve not from her not for anyone around so stop trying stop thinking maybe there is a small chance let me tell you this smallest chance there once was inside of her towards you has already been swallowed by one or ten motherfuckers who were closer than you and you are never having it back cause it was never yours and probably it never existed so if you still want to keep your fantasy ideas babbling in your head and pronouncing this sweet words you are so good with you are free to go cause boy this is as far as you are getting so don't take her into your sickness and be one of those who paint their faces and cry in the subway and write their feelings in a sheet of paper or in some blog of shit and ask her and whoever who comes around to read your soul and tell what's inside cause your light is so fucked you can't see properly. Stop thinking that good love is yours.
(c) Laurie Lipton - "Madman underground" |
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