Imbecility

All the small, boring people. Why does size matter? Indeed, if it does not, why try to make yourself smaller? Fucking dimwit. Get a life. Oh Jesus how I hate

you. Die. Just die. I hope you die.

Your... idiotic, petty, inane rivalries mean nothing, you mean nothing. Why even bother? You or me, it's all the same. Die. The end result. Just... cease to

exist. Stop it. Why? Why won't you die?

Why am I so anal? As I type, I correct my errors. Bitch. Live your life. We're all the same, us in the human race.

Pause.

Just because. Whoops, more errors creeping in, more erasing. Not exactly honest, are we? And why elude to Victorian sentiment? Just to feel more noble, more

uppity? Bitch.

Shadows, skins, the scabs, what song lyric? Bitch.

Crawl you damn motherfucker, just crawl, get it out. Is this helping? Then why do it?

Yes! The change.... no, just my imagination acting up. Everyday has gotten the upper hand.

When did you last bleed, laugh, feel ecstatic? Eh? Wallow, wallow you sorry motherfucker.

It's all so... what? More? You want more? And then what? Will it change anything tomorrow, or just make it worse? Make what worse? You know. Birch. Hey?

What?

No. Just no. Don't even. Please? Why aren't you taking this shit seriously? Because everyone could do it? Am I that ordinary, that insignificant? Why even

try then? Just let me sit here, forever typing incoherence.

No blood. Fuck you, that's why.

Yes. Yes! LOUD. Transporting. 501.

Basini is the fucking man as well.

Too sober.

Disharmonic, in the best possible way.

Transmit your meaning, your thoughts. You can't, can you. Bitch. Just get on through. Don't go quoting on me, just do it. Fuck you, goddamn intermissionist.

Keep to the bloody point. No centrisms for you, eh?

That’s what started it all you know. Always the family.

Analyse. Analyse everything, then, you will have your answers, your life will be happy and perfect.

Dreaming of stinkbombs in trains. Public transport will suffer. Why not, why even bother, don't fuck with me. Nothing is too loud.

So impersonal, the written word, Digital.

I will leave, just go nowhere.

Obligations, happily accepted and obliged.