Imagine for a moment a girl. That dates men she has nothing in common with. Then tells them she doesn’t love them because of their differences. Now imagine a boy. Who planned a future with that girl and it was ripped away. Society tells the boy to be still. To accept the choices made against him, and tells the girl good job. Now imagine a boy that’s had this happen to him his entire life. “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” Imagine a man who’s sick of it…

My only crime is being upset about the fact the person I would have done anything for no longer speaks to me. It’s a new day and a new dick for her. I’m still processing the whole “I don’t love you anymore”. Women wonder why men break bad.

Where is he? That beautiful man. Is he back where I started? Is he on the corner asking for a hug? Is he still alive?

Can I go back? Can I end this path of destruction? I tilt my head back everyday. I see the boy that smiled at the sun, that glistened at the sight of the moon. The lovely warm creature that enjoyed witnessing happiness, almost flirting with it. I spit on him. I like the dark. She is my mistress. No. I can’t go back. Forward.

My heart isn’t beating. It died on a beach in Florida. I watched the sun fall for the last time yet I’m still here. Surrounded by reasons to continue. The air is cold. My lungs are still hot.

Becoming a one man mob is definitely my favorite transformation.

My therapist told me to start a journal. I was honestly upset at how cliche that advice was. “I just gave you $180 for you to tell me that shit?” So I made a tumblr. Festooning my guts online is the same thing right? I guess I’ll have to give her another $180 to find out.

Tears in my eyes. Venom in my voice. Rot in my stomach. Feet on this ground.

Imagine for a moment you’re a good person….

“Got a brain like a hurricane”.

The money. The speed. The sex. Nothing makes me feel warm. I’m just cold. A zombie. A creature that craves destruction. My continuation is based on my ability to destroy. I see people and wonder how sweet their blood taste. Am I monster for accepting this? Or am I human for understanding how I got here? Time will tell.

“The extreme always seems to make an impression”

Owning a corvette as a status symbol<owning a corvette to lure in materialistic people to fuck and abuse.