NW: American Hardcore
i've recently come to the actualization/realization/revelation that pretty much everything i write is me giving my brain an abortion...physically removing all the crap before it turns on the body that carries it.
Life rapes my mind...slithers its demon-cock into the pink creases, ejaculating toxic waste that manifests into a six-toed 4 toothed (all fangs) cycloptic half-goat, hooves caked in its own radioactive excrement which is also matted into the blood-black hairs that detail its thin legs. these words are transmissions from that very specimen, a vain attempt to make its way into reality..and every time something is put together, another limb is fished from the womb this beast occupies. and every time i think i've finally got all the pieces out of there, Life is there again, spitting on its hand, lathering its hell-organ for another round of violent psycho-sexual impregnation, and the cycle begins again.
of course i could just be a melodramatic self-important dicksauce whose looking for an excuse to not join you all out there. i don't think i really need an excuse, though....i mean, just fucking look at you. plech.
just needed to share.
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