No hands on the reigns

So much of the irrationality in our lives brings with it hope. Hope for some sort of meaning. Or at least some measure of fleeting happiness. With this in mind I will continue to be irrational as long as I am able. Weather permitting.

All of you

I care very little and I care very much.

Binary loadlifters very similar to your moisture evaporators in most respects

Constant feast and famine.

I've no plan but I have this luke warm disorder, this scrappy discipline.

I have your ghost in my bed.
And I have your scent on my sheets.

You have misplaced my blueprints and plans.
For a sound future.
For safety.

You are a reminder to me that there is joy in not knowing.

Patient-X

Don't hate me everyone. Bad things pop into my head occasionally. They must be purged.

Gut you pig.
Fuck fallen insides.
Lubricate my machine sex.
Finish inside you.

Fragrance

He kills his own.
Not for food.

Decimates his own
to facilitate
total silence.

Complete isolation is to be
perfectly inactive.
To achieve total safety.

48 hours and a number of weeks

I can bend what I am to suit what I need to be.
I will never be subservient to that part of myself that would hurt myself.
Ever again.