Fuck it. I'll take time out to have steak and drink alcohol and just get high out of my goddamn mind. I am so tired of everything. As the clock ticks down I suppose that there is no other choice but to enjoy what I have then. To hell with whatever thing I try to achieve. It's only by my luck that I've gotten here and survived, and only by my luck that I am still going forward looking for something better.
All I have is the image in my mind at its low resolution to pull me from the currents of the ether to tempt me into a sirens song uplifting my heart and recognizing my existence.
Tis is true I have done gymnastics and backflips to wrestle with the creme brulee to ignore the common bean, the calloused existence of servitude.
What else can one do in a plane of complete confusion and meaningless outcomes; When the common man does not even know what he wants...
Your freedom is something you take for granted, because you have never exercised it. You had a choice. Complete chaos, or the machine.
All is what you make of where you are and what you may accept now up until this point. He knows much, but only accepts some.
He knows not the language or the meaning of the person next to him because not only have the morons been ousted as to what they are.
It seems to me that the competition is so ghastly and ungodly that they would attack everything including capitalism itself to sell clothes irons and toasters.
Ironic.
I would rather be out to be honest... Thanks Corona. Change my fucking business plan 2 fucking times this year. Ontop of everything else. hah.
