|My tastebuds sit on a pedastol like some kind of drunken sailor
||[Jun. 6th, 2004|04:39 am]
The Jesse train
So everyone is getting crucified nowadays...like its some kind of fad. Well thats cool, i suppose, yeah. Everyday an eyelash falls into my eye. Is this a sign or just nature. Yeah fuck nature. Machine wins bitch. I dont think god would have a chance against man. Were pretty fuckin bad ass with our lasers and sense of self-assurance. I go to mcdonalds to read nietzsche and have a big mac. I end up reading my big mac. Its the wooden floors that make me sad nowadays. I yearn for something spectacular. Like an eclipse or an apocalypse. All i get is gravity fuckin holdin me down. Man fuck you gravity. Youre all on your high horse actin all big and tough like some kind of high school football player. I wish i could see colors better cause im sick of music. If i could ever get off this train maybe i could give you these flowers i picked. but their wilting, I think im wilting, I think im rotting, I think im thinking too much. I think that you think that i think that theres some kind of thinking behind my thinking. I write your name down in my notebook, then i circle it, then i triangle it, then i square it, and finally i octagon it. Then i scribble it out, tear the page out, and throw it at someone. Ive been trying to find the recipe for how to make love, but i guess its a family secret. On a whim, I am a vowel, Out of place, Out of time, Out of sight, Out of options, Out of flour. If you speak english, i suggest not reading this. With a smug smile, and a packet of gum, a broken soul, and a bottle of rum, She closed her eyes, and stared so soft, I saw her lies, and tasted her her cough.