This is where that stuff comes from...woah! What's up with the hole?

Friday, July 23, 2010

Porn, Fortune, and Prostitution

Porn is how we unattractives can see hot people naked; fortune and prostitution how we can fuck them.

A Cure

People like to be told that they are sick, but, above all else, they love to hear that you have a cure.

30 pieces of silver

Because to him I may be worth more than 30 pieces of silver, but I still have a price.

Love cliches

  • I would create hyperboles about my love .
  • I love you in so many cliched ways.
  • My love is like a hackneyed simile; my passion a trite metaphor.

Alliterated Dread

That lasting, longing feeling I so loathe to sense fills me with torment again.

Higher level of Bromance

Excuse me, but how many kids do you have? And in between those kids, you didn't have sex, right? Yes? You whore! You Sodomite! Reproduction is the only moral reasons for sex! Go back to Gomorrah. Our relationship being a sin?! We've never slept together! The bible doesn't say anything about our relationship. We're just friends. I haven't "laid" with him as with a woman. It's more like we've reached a higher level of bromance than ever before.

Dead metaphor

It was a dead metaphor about wheels and progress in an industrial cake pollution.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Of betrayal

He was my Brutus, my Judas, my god; I was his Caesar, his Jesus, his Job.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Braced

Everything braced for a moment that never happened; everyone braced themselves for a moment that never came.

Avalanche of thoughts...

That train of thought ran into an abyss and what followed was an avalanche of thoughts.

You came out at the worst possible moment...

-Now that you've told me you're gay, everything just seems more phallic in your hands...
-What?

-Look, just refrain from eating bananas or drinking water in front of me...

-Dude, I don't picture myself guzzling cum when I'm taking sips from a bottle. What the fuck?

Friday, June 18, 2010

They Blare

[UNDER CONSTRUCTION]

Why not bravely cross the line that everyone has crossed before? Unless you cross some new lines for originality...but that would be hipster.

Well there are real obstacles. Yes. Some are the dull hum of the alarm clock that slowly rises at times so no other sound could be heard. But that sound always drops to the lowest, imperceivable hum. You forget you have burdens or obstacles. With a puffed up chest and cock-of-the-walk attitude you go out there. It's a dream you're in at the time. A new surreal reality. Lucidity slowly cracks and life/reality cave-in to form one reality. You drive your flashy convertible at crazy speeds through the most dangerous areas. You hit ramps and hills to make your car fly. But, just as you're about to pull off a jump in the style of Thelma and Louise, the ravine seems larger. Just as you begin to hesitate – to wonder if you should make the jump – you hear it. It is, again, a low hum. You change radio stations but it only gets louder. Just as you near the ravine – it turns to blaring. Suddenly you see the depth of the ravine – and as if in some ACME production – run back the way you came – the convertible has vanished and the poof of vanishing smoke becomes your walkway back to the other side. Once you touch foot on the other side – you're back – dejected. Your obstacles blaring in your mind; your arms and shoulder heavy with the thoughts . The scenarios play out in your head and each one is a throbbing vessel. Each one weights down heavier. And you slump back into your comfortable life easing the throbbing and the blaring of the alarm. Again, the alarm is no more than a hum. And as you lick your wounds, you wonder why you are still there on that couch – and what it is that holds you back. It couldn't be that hum. That imperceivable hum...

Smile

I smile— the thought leaves me. Adonis fades; I stay away.

The Same Experience

It was all the same experience: the same first person point-of-view experience of all the all too similar environments.

When I Arrived

When I arrived, it was as if I’d awoken from a dream. Suddenly, images of the place were harder to recall and the memories seemed to fade.

A Tale

Between two great events, there is always a story. That a hero showered occasionally, shot the shit and took afternoon naps before making a heroic decision— that is a fascinating tale.

Secrets

When you hold secrets, there’s nowhere you feel at home in the world.