i slept around 10pm last night and then woke up as if i've had a good night's sleep. unlocked my phone's keypad and glanced at the tiny numbers, 12am. i laughed. yes, i fucking laughed like a douchebag parrot and unquippingly quipped to myself "nice, very nice, ha ha". this is comedy to me, this is sitcom, this is a sketch. a reoccurring sketch which cycles beyond annoyance to the point of incomparable hilarity. managed to get back into tame slumber, up again by 2am, watched some shit and got another brief sleep only to wake up another 2 hours later. walked to the sofa to try on the classic t.v.-induced sleep. didn't work, by 5:31am i'm like fuck it might as well open blogger and whine about it.
ain't got too much on my mind but sometimes just that one thing could be a real bitch asshole. this one thing couldn't stand the alluring sight of mass empty space in my brain. it started to itch. decided it should strip naked dip its body in spicy sweet caramel and roll around my mind as if wrestling an anywisingly dancing feather. this, and The Jetlag That Won't Leave Me Alone Already.
i'll have to be content with this bio-clock fuckery. accept it. i am wide awake at the most devilish intervals. this is a 1930s horror movie remade in the new century entitled The Revenge of the Bio-Clock. this is karma. in your younger albeit you're still pretty much young days you did not exactly treat it like a princess. and bio clocks don't like it when you don't treat it like a princess. like its more mechanical cousins, bio clocks have memories too. most of all (cue suspenseful music gradually descending into an explosion of silence)... bio clocks remember.
now, facebook is asking me what's on my mind. my apologies facebook i can't tell you for i have decided that whatever's on my mind right now must stay in my mind. if the c.i.a. would be so bold as to use their mind reader gadget thingy to read into it i would trail the agent assigned to the mission on his way back to his headquarters carrying my poison dagger. i'll bash his head in with bare knuckles and utilise the dagger... to annihilate his pendrive. interject the poison so it may never be operational ever again. forever crippled it shall never set foot effectively inside a usb port ever again. ever again. again again again again again again again. simply because the data is embarassing, it shows fragility of the heart and weakness of the mind. clint eastwood wouldn't approve. he'd be like just stop thinking, pusscake.
twitter is asking me what am i doing, and like everyone else like me i never inform. i'll save essential trivial shit like this for the future on The Girlfriend That Probably Will Never Become At All But Should Cause She Whoever She Is Should Just, Should, You Know, Please, Pretty Fucking Please, You Cunting Around Whore Surface Surface Surface! ar oppsy arh erm yeah where were we, err okay, there, we were there. i'm sorry twitter i can't commit to you like that, you are not cute enough and most importantly you do not possess that beauty that runs the world, that sumptuous slit, that luxurious opening, that mm, vagina. not that i am vagina crazy. obsession mostly do not lead to physical excess. i put it on a pedestal, therefore i don't see at all of it no matter how tall i have gotten or how much muscle i have developed from looking up. i am unworthy, your majesty. my grip shall be my frictioning companion till you decide i am worthy of you going down the stairs for my amateur embrace, your majesty. all that is within my alignment within my grasp are dust compared to you, your fucking majesty.
you see the satire that is my mind has whirlwinded itself into a mess that even dirty latina maids couldn't clean up. almost an hour later and i'm ready for breakfast. despite all this cryptic typed-in bullshit, i still live my life like a normal human being. a very ordinary boy. i will walk the earth with a smile and a frown with the frown being my face muscles relaxing. this is because everything that i write, all of it, all of it, LIES LIES LIES. and everything i say, LIES LIES LIES. every detail i pretend to unleaf LIES LIES LIES. BULLSHIT. BULLCRAP. SHIT THAT TASTES LIKE IT CAME FROM A BULL'S ANUS. AND YOU HAVE TO TASTE BOTH THE SHIT AND THE BULL'S ANUS TO DETERMINE THIS ACCURATELY!
your beautiful inappropriately wide-awake friend,