I keep telling myself that I am going to write… something. Days turn into drunken attempts to forget the present and rub out the recent past. Then I convince myself that writing would be an exercise in Emo or an exercise in pretentiousness. Just a way to stroke my own ego. It’s not going to be pretty. Turn away now.
Convoluted spasms of jerking off into the void of missing opportunities our missing link splurges among the spooge left in her mouth. Never do it. That’s my advice. Just don’t let Nike take control. Don’t do it.
There is no coming back from that which is the mojo killer of all time. Once your mojo is gone, everything else is just pretend. Watching movies, playing video games, jerking off to porn, looking for the next way to get yourself off… the next golden ticket that will take you through the imaginary, through that which will cleanse the lucidness from your crust filled eyelashes.
The only satisfaction we can get these days is when pissing into a bowl full of water. The bubbles float to the surface and the acoustic sounds of hot steamy liquid violating the cold still KELD.
Maybe it can happen again.
Maybe your mind will vulcan together like the slice of cheese stuck between the bun and the burger. You’ll never pry them apart now.
Tags: definitions, jingle, lesbian, mind meld, toilet, urine