Fucking Shit

Fucking Shit Fucking Shit

Status: Finished

Genre: Memoir

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Memoir

Summary

It's my fucking life. Hours waste in obstinate thoughts. Portraits of a mind flow that break out in this void. Here are love, sex, hate, laughs, this is my only existence.

Summary

It's my fucking life. Hours waste in obstinate thoughts. Portraits of a mind flow that break out in this void. Here are love, sex, hate, laughs, this is my only existence.

Content

Submitted: June 05, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: June 05, 2012

A A A

A A A


Foreword

You’ll wake up hollow pockets and you’ll feel so empty like your pockets the whore will refuse her cares you are hurting there’s a heart won’t can be sink in old scotch whisky glass her kisses are frozen like ice cubes her tongue is cold her lascivious glance not satisfy you she talks by desire pictures but you believe her communication is phony and you don’t suspect your soul is so shoddy as her talk she ain’t kind she want you brave she want your best you despairs tears don’t soften her heart you try mistake her nevertheless you know who are the author of traps you resent to feel yourself as a little mouse the cheese doesn’t smells good but your stomach disregards for you starving and ain’t no time to look the stars you feel you unfit the temples have passwords that are out of reach you wander around forbidden go in anywhere mouths spew their filth they stink piss shit and human garbage everything is stinky it disgusts you vomit you wish spew rotting flesh exposed they disguise the smell with scent of roses but it ain’t enough to make this rot imperceptible lights blow up in your head neons with foolish messages things that you don’t wanna know however they assault you and impose themselves you HATE all this FUCKING SHIT

Day One

Drowsy morning pretty late than usual Sunday morning no expectations anxious for Monday to start something to get a job and money you can’t waste your time It’s a foolish thing worry ‘bout time but our mind is usually stupid the anxiety is more present than joy it’s hard to feel better when the pressure appears ubiquitously coffee cigarets the butter flavor in lips and tongue went a relief that I found today the butter and bread flavor coffee and milk filled my mind for a few hours you ain’t got any kind of pleasure the situation ain’t the best it’s very close to absolute precariousness however I’m far from indigence sleep comes to me to sleep is a relief too I didn’t retain any dreams I had is it hard to dream for me but what does it matter reality is as much close as you want it more far coffee cigarets it’s a pleasure that can never be replaced I’m sick I don’t know I read something ‘bout the sickness in Burroughs I feel like me free from addiction I feel me stuck to it this disgusts me the addiction paralyzes my mind It seeks hypnotize me defeat anguish close to misery my body seems not fear anything my poor condition ain’t worry me I feel fine hot water waiting for coffee black desire smokes caffeine whatever that is addictive I’m in a labyrinth I wake up cold weather friend’s call I haven’t see him for a while a decent person ex bus driver now he works in telemarketing he called me to know news I talk I’m good and I keep on the same we haven’t anything more to talk I hung up we said goodbye kindly and life goes on as it should be I guess now is coffee and cigarets what a thrill hum ‘fore I go to bathroom I need to piss always we piss a lot when is cold TV on in the room next my friend watch I don’t have much taste for TV shows I deem a waste of time I can’t put this kind of crap in my head coffee some crackers after I light a cigaret I need to occupy myself as I’m idle the craving for smoke is very often I hate Sundays someone without cash can’t do anything on Sundays unless get your own thoughts and anguish you care about the first words but after they break out a range of thoughts follow behind them pushing everything to infinite

I knew the both sides of the same coin the peak of pleasure and the peak of the pain I try to disguise but there’s something ‘bout sex is problematic for me there was an unknown recurrence of happenings for I ignore them and I look to this insistence just as the insignificance of an accident no maybe there’s a meaning more imperative for these situations which escapes to my understanding it’s so hard to go deeper in this since I don’t know where to start It’s closed I can’t see nothing everything is so obscure and it looking for trick me I’d like to know this fucking illusionist who appears only masked who appears with his tricks if he is a god he mistreats me cuz he closes a way and he doesn’t explain the reason a fucking after another a whirlwind unhappy reminders pain misunderstanding there’s no welcome lost in storm is the answer in my heart I feel him like a volcano brings to me a lotta problems when happens his eruption eruption is a word that sounds good and she seems terrifying I feel confusion close scares me even the coming day what I should do always repeat the same rite it bores me


© Copyright 2018 Paul Freak. All rights reserved.

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