The Good Ol' Dirtless Burial

so i wrote a whole bunch of depressing shit a while ago.

not intending a relapse, so im burying these writings online.

and so it begins.....


"another kick below the belt while i attempt to stand on my own 2 feet....

..its my eternal, ongoing hand to hand combat with life that has me spewing up this reenacted lung blood.

Lung blood = a good sign that youre dying... usually expressed in real life through a wanting of killing oneself in the most efficient way possible, whilst at the same time, experiencing an overwhelming expression to punch yourself in the face.

im @ a crossroads......again.

and all my friends tend to worsen my burden.

ive had enough!

tough stuff like this, leaves my stomach in a tight twist.

wishing to be performing abortions.

rid me of this, ridiculous ridicule that rapidly rotates the recesses of my ravaged mind.

let me defecate this thought. allow me respite from myself.

loved ones hurt me, but i dont want them to know...after all, my life is a lie.

i could fight with the tower of pisa over who needs more support.....and win!

i effed(F'd) my life with a lie.

i worry whats the fuss all about?

if i had 8 arms, i'd be writing something else by now.

the shocking truth about electricity!!

i am the little flame that burned.... down your school.... you owe me!

pardon this arsonist, subtle to trouble, bigger than dolly partons tits.

if a tree burns down in the forest, and no one is around to make a buck, is it still climate change?

ocean = a world of tears.

i cry flames.

a bird is chained to the sky.

a free slave, is an ignorant (happy) slave.

whats a fly without wings?

there is no space in time and no time in space.

the universe is anti-pedantic.

mankind. a meticulous failure.

girlfriends. elegant weapons. worries.

white blood cells dont punch time clocks.

casting shadows with black light can be done by lighting a candle.

me, writing now. death by candlelight.

days with secretaries are tedious coz they are.

a volley of answers will break your bow before you even fire off a warning question.

2 things i dont brake for. green lights and critics.

why make sense when you wej uhg inbing.

why make sense? god doesnt.

wingmen never get props.

a stain isnt a stain on your brain. then its maintained as a memory.

triggers are traps.

a fool and his money are soon famous.

gamma ray the glamour, like hammer to hamstring.

pain with extreme pain.

everything, if answered, is said coarse,
so trying to stay happy is like beating a dead horse.

i want to be a soft toy. they never have hard days.

why dont babies and nurses live in nursing homes?"










.....and so that was a depressed emo sounding me.
shitty wasnt it?
good thing i bury shit like a feline with diarrhea.

*lights a match*

Stomach Aches should just be named Stomaches

Whenever i heard that r.kelly and notorious BIG song 'fuckin' you tonight'... at the start of it... and biggie is all like "theres another one.... and another one..." i always related that to dropping the kids off at the pool.

maybe its because that album had a skit of him talking about shitting on a girls chest.

who knows, who cares? well, i do, but i dont count.... maths sucks.

soo what doesnt suck?

usually small things are quite cool.

as are cakes.

mix them together and videos of monumental awesome are erected in dishonour.





whenever i hear this, mad dash to the bong and TV is made.



merrie melodies is for suckers... modern madcap cartoons were where IT was at in 1961.



and then theres the coolest story ever bro.



but yeah... im back n dropping blogs like a lumberjack is chopping logs.

word to the mother.