"Diet 1988"

The sickest roar lasts forever. GET A BANK ACCOUNT. Get me out of bed in the morning. Help me sleep at night. Earlier today I was so down. Trying to get ahead, feeling held back. Observing what I’ve put into everything. Expectations. What energy boomerangs my way?  Nothing changes. Except me. Never me.  Wild boi. I get lost.  The sickest roar lasts forever. Slaps me in the face for whining. Puts me in my place. Keeps me in my place. What is my place? Space, motherfucker. That is my place. GET A BANK ACCOUNT. When I peek out over the earth, I get lonely. Wild boi. I get lost. The god of the west world shits in my mouth and cracks my skull on the mirror. Shattered. I lose. My arms stretched out for embrace and I feel man christ shit smeared all over my face. The sickest roar lasts forever. Send this text to edit, tear it apart. This isn’t for you. I won’t be asking. Do whatever you want. GET A BANK ACCOUNT. The hike up the hill is my toil and spewing of word is mine to assemble and leave for a few to digest.

 Wild boi. I get lost.  The thirst for complete wave coverage makes me bleed and I yearn for that wound to seep all over my life. When the peroxide and bandages come out of the cabinet, I am worthless and lying to myself. “Clean up and put on a suit. Clock in. Make them happy.” “Log in and “like” me. Press your face against the screen and climb in.”  Wild boi. I get lost. 

GET A BANK ACCOUNT.  The sickest roar lasts forever. The sharpest executive chomps the knob and skirts the soul. Useless. Break down the tiers and rape the top dog. Give the top dog bottom babies that eats top dog in HIS sleep.  Earlier today I was so down. Trying to love my life, full of worry and sadness. Kleenex please, I have it so down and I am out of the Friendly Game. Meanwhile I am full of comfort and gluttony. Wild boi. I get lost. I am worthless and lying to myself. Space, motherfucker. Space isn’t lonely. I am space. The sickest roar lasts forever. If not for the love of the universe then why live at all. GET A BANK ACCOUNT. Wild boi. I get lost. A small kitten, homeless, wandering the neighborhood in search of meal, exhausted.  GET A BANK ACCOUNT. A child torn between a doormat of a mother and an abusive father honestly reminds us all to GET A BANK ACCOUNT. The sickest roar lasts forever. “Clean up and love your country. Suck it. Make them even more numb.” “Dive in and “die”, just like the rest of USA.