cobwebs forming between my fingers
dusk collecting on my skin
could fool you into thinking
i am nothing but empty, within

fuck that, i'm not depressed. but i don't know how i could prove it to anyone.

especially myself.

fuck that, i'm not depressed. but i don't know how to prove it to you.

or myself.

if you reduce life to the fact that the strongest and deepest emotions you feel are just the result of a chemical working in your brain, then i've got all the wrong chemicals and i need to find the right ones.

i'm not one for regret, but lately i just can't help but feel like every choice i make is the wrong one.

like writing this entry.

nigga nigga.

the government monitors the internet!

"EVERYTHING I WRITE IS JUST FOR SHOW."

i am going to be a priest.

fuck all of those faggots who brag about, "yeah, i'm a motherfucking playa, nigga, what nigga, what." fuck all of that shit. fuck that hip hop status quo shit, that fake-ass form of pseudo-masculine power. to me it's the complete fucking opposite. it's a sign of feeble spirit, of real weakness.

ladies and pimps go on and dust your shoulders off.

go on and fucking dust that chip off of your rigid shoulders too.

WHY ARE MEN SO PROUD? WHAT'S PRIDE WORTH, ANYWAY?

women typically love assholes, it's a proven fact.

-

be my own cleo: i'm going to go through a 3-year heroin addiction starting a couple months after my 24th birthday, but i'll survive. all the while i'll be creating, networking, even as a constantly strung out piece of shit. maybe people won't know, they'll just think i'm constantly tired or something. i'll find god, and start to care about shit. i'll buy a house on the other side of the world, but i'll come home to visit my parents every couple of years, though i'll mail them money every month. i'm going to raise 13 children by myself, and they're all going to become geniuses, athletes, artists, dreamers.

if anything for the sake of reality, i'd hope to have at least one child sometime in my life, and to have that child dream dreams far more vanilla and beautiful than my tiny mind could ever begin to fathom.

when i wake up there's always this feeling of disappointment that i get from the abrupt end of a dream, as if the generator that powers my subconscious landscape suddenly shuts off. it's a blackout of a blackout, a double negative, and i awaken to a haze until the morning light completely filters into my eyes and then into my brain and then into my soul... my first reaction is that i don't want to be awake, i don't need another day of feeling ostracized and unaccomplished and ruined... but then my babylon reconstructs like a movie about a crumbling civilization in rewind, and i begin to embrace the possibilities of the day, though a taste of futility lurks as i angle my back 90 degrees to my thighs and let the blood make it's way to my main processors. and then it's autopilot until my legs are dry and i've got socks on my feet.

i hate being the depressed little fuck who sleeps all the time and eats as if he's auditioning for the role of FAT FUCK in a movie aptly titled FAT FUCK, but whatevs. i never gain weight.

i'm losing any sass i ever had in me. i'm becoming the person people just don't want to be around anymore, and for those of you who can't see that, i ask, "WHY? i would fucking avoid me if i wasn't me, SHIT!"

CALL ME CHe, SHORT FOR CLICHe.

i've got a bad disease
i've found my brain is wear i bleed

I NEED TO BE FUCKING EXORCIZED.

FUCK IT I AIN'T GOING OUT LIKE A LITTLE BITCH!

I'M NOT GOING TO LET THIS CITY CHEW ME UP AND SPIT ME OUT!

I'M GOING TO TRY TO BE HAPPY FOR ONCE!

syke.