what is the point of life?
its a bad trip with a heartbeat and an experience of lonliness.how long do warm black bedsheets let us enjoy the void before our picky stomachs growl and demand attention? i dont want to shop at the gap. i dont need a lexus or khakis or tommy fucking hilfiger. i dont need carson fucking daily picking out my daily favorite picks if i didnt even dial into trl on a weekend where i had nothing to do and noone to share it with ever notice the coolest feeling in the world can just be a hot shower? just a pillar of womb-like warmth cleansing the parasites from your skin.but leaving is always a dissapointment. theres always stairs to climb, hallways to walk, and sun to blind us the average human sleeps away 18.4 years of their own life.if i have to be in this thorn-like world then i dont want to sleep. i want to take back the night and fall in love with it again and renew the romance of being. strip away others of their needs to “do the dew” and buy lottery tickets so we can all be poets. fuck..i hate myself