Saturday, December 19, 2015

@postsecret; a nice the fuck you poem coupling.

i hate all of this holiday shit i've been up to recently. i feel a little too quick about myself, regarding telling the world what i want people to buy for me- and of course, i'm mostly doing this in my head- when i'm not buying for myself ahead of time. if i could get past this- because i want to be a human sacrifice for south sudan but i keep buying stuff and i stole a marker today, too. and a tea "infuser". and i'd been stealing tea bags but i've finished.
my four year old niece is a little consumerist whore.
economical needs being met require the self getting in the way of the self. cultural depression is the result of this.

i put my first advertisement out there, i mean, in the world, last night in a coffee shop i've been on and off, but mostly off, frequenting since i was a kid under the nom de guerre of "helen keller".
moods are the on-goings of one snake, one flexible colorful snake, abandoning former skins more importantly than eggs. after i doodled my little advertisement, complete with assballspenis and sperm coming out of a peach, i put it in the tiny plastic advertisement display thingie. a guy working comes along and asks what [we] did with the advertisement that was already there. there wasn't one. but someone was totally watching me shove my self-promotion into the display, which, in my head, feels extremely violating- also, i feel misunderstood, as i imagined being thought of as a rebel-rouser, when i was in fact adult-like. i died inside, or the universe did- it was black, starless- struggling to rise again throughout the following rounds of guess who. i don't think i have risen again- i don't think i died in the first place. i think a bit of me rotted off and this is what keeps happening. little stubs for the dung beetles.

edit: that pill is a dud. i can't find it anywhere on pill identifier.