Dead in the Woods
Sep 07, 2006 in Uncategorized
Man robs bank to be ’supported’
Everybody needs a little support every once in awhile. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on, and a lap to lie their head. I know I do.
These have been trying times for your neighborhood soothsayer. I may be able to practicate that fortunality in a disambiguous fashion, but in no way am I able to stand myself separate from its hands. These days, the truth takes its fingers about my neck easily, and squeezes heavily until the last gasp exits my body. And I can do nothing but let it.
And if I should continue with such honest confession, let me state that fates visage stares about my wreakage and holds steady until ready to topple my very existence. That is why I am so weary. That is why the wetness escapes my eyes nightly. It is for this that I have contemplated ending it all, or at least almost it all.
Standing helplessly is no way a grown male human should be perceived. And my opposite finds me weak for admitting this fallacy of my form. So be it. But I can no longer lie about such truths. I must be honesty with myself. I must make solid and whole my cowardice.
And for that, I shall state that my innards should so match my new-formed femininity. I should be so pleased to bear child within me, and to have such being suckle from my mammary. Perhaps I should injest teas and soy to hurried the result.
Should a being as low as I not want this outcome no less than the continued beating that is taken by the hands of Nature, a great mother of sort. Or perhaps, may I not want to continue to be the dog that sits before the feet of thy ethereal Paradise. The cocksucker of the Universe, the devil of the mortal walking dead.
But as such, being that I am man, and as man, I want far greater than my reach can grasp. Even when my reach does break free, is it not as fate to let that great gift, so sweet and fragrant, become an even heavier burden to hold between my limbs.
It is for this that I shall continue in my sickness, my misfortune to grow with the grand melancholy befitting an animal such as I. To be truthful of myself is to walk about the knees, and partake of the meal that only a mealy-mouthed cocksucker such as I should only prefer.
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Damn, Saved By the Bell is becoming the new Diff’rent Strokes. First, I find out that the chick that played Lisa might have been a crack head. Then, I find out that the dude that played Slater might have beat down Ali Landry on some Ike Turner crap. Now, I find out that Screech is out begging for loose change and selling crappy t-shirts
Take that Sara Rue chick. She was kind of hot fat, and then she decided to lose the weight. Now I don’t know if I like her very much. She looks okay, but she doesn’t have all that juicy whiteness to her that she had before. Now she looks just like every other white chick, except more elderly, and that’s bad.