Courser
untitled
The one thing he truly loved was taking over once again as he slipped into a blissful coma. When things got so bad he decided to throw it all away, at least for a little while. The same sad sarcastic satire slipped in and he began to heal through a corruption he defied. On went the safety catch and it began to clot - a device that he hated and loved. As he faded away he remembered the last fundamental sense of knowing that she had come for him, at first cold, but then transcending across and down into the pit of the corner of the big dark room. He didn't know anything but that she was there and touching him. And suddenly he had a reason but it was too late. At least for a little while. He lived in the real world, with sex, drugs, and violence. Now he had matured into it and he played the role. His role. The role. His role. The role. He played the game for her.
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I wrote this with weak in mind and hand about another one of me when it decides to choose or take a chance and with whom to be.
this made me think of my power to switch seamlessly between male and femal genitalias.... i like it. oh, and my sence of humor is pretty dry... so its ok if you didnt like 'the reason we should blame racists for weight related suicides' and i know i cant spell, so can you take it with a pinch of salt and not point it out.. i really hate it when people do that. :D