wonderwaffles

I noticed that when I get worn down, like this, I get all kinds of emo. It's possible to get out of it, but I need to watch good movies with good friends and let myself get emotionally involved in something trivial. Something external. It's not there, yet. Might not be available for a while. And I'm trying to write a post-due paper on suicide and martyrdom. Optimistic, right?

I'm hoping that most of this is just general tiredness and residual shit from last year and that it will evaporate quickly. I think it will. But for now, for tonight, I'm having Dangerous Thoughts.

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her skies

See what I mean?! Goddamn, I needs me a priest of Funk to groove out this demon of mental malaise that bones my brain like a desperate furry fucking a stuffed racoon he baught on e-bay while he rememberes the soft careess of the first care-bear he ever truly loved.

It's a desperate, raw kind of brain-fucking. It refuses to lube and leaves me sore. It leaves me tied in the basement, calling with its thick country drawl that it'll be back for more, and this time it'll bring something it calls the Happy Plug.

Right. Time to get to my knees and clench my ass and kill a bitch. Wanna come?