So I’m illiterate now, finally, it happened. I’m stupid dumb and broke, as my therapist said psychically right at me, inappropriately, that cocksucker with no mores working for a professional healthcare company, evil slime pretending to be a real doctor, instigated me to drink at our first meeting.

Now, there’s a bandage on one of my fingers.

Mom broke the coffee machine.

I don’t know what to do.

There’s too many directions.

Nothing is stable.

I’m trying to build my server and it doesn’t just work. It’s crap. I troubleshooted for like two hours during work today. And now I’m guilty because I didn’t work. I slept mostly.

I slept and worked on the server.





What of it?


So I need less paranoia in my life.

Or psychic bitches, mostly, bossing me around with more power over me to me than me. These whores. Fuck these whores so hard. They need to die off one by one.

Well. Good luck, nature. Looks like you’re losing.


Someone’s gonna rub some shit in my face and say “See? See? See?” and run away. Wow. Good wisdom! Dog in the sky!


And else, I been reading Anne Sexton, yes, even her fairy tales that I don’t like just to get through them.

And need to read the postmodern american poetry.



Always in a rush to get one place or the next.

Because it’s never good enough where I am. So yes, I do try to get to the next in hopes it will be better.

Slobbering all over Trump’s fat hair cock.

Cock socker.

Nest favorite spart.

Er well.

What does it mattress.

I wish to keep going but I am not allowed pleasure anymore.

Oh boy this depakote is gonna be awesome!!! screeching noises! hah a ha ha aha! yeah right brain dead poop.



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