XXXLeft to the farthest crevist from my dad’s room, I smiled in slight shame, as the mental layover began to pull me higher and higher as I pulled on my penis, no astroglide to scrub my fleshy stone with, the slick wet creating a whicking that was too sharp. I needed a muscle relaxer. I wanted a blood flow function communicator, a full force walking of my thick little pencil until it spouted lemon juice leader the tip like a celebration of glaze.

Loud and proud. He was dying soon anyway. Why not let him hear his poor boy work his log over until the wood grew thick with sap all around the sides, like a perpetual and covering leak that is just slow enough it creates a natural lubrication to crock my pot with maximum effort and minimal ease.

Ah yes, my brain stopped thinking correctly. Mighty morphing time now lets satirize this gift of life by making a joke that I had enough semen to coat my arms for the five finger drag race that was running through my current circuit and to unleash a big heap of liquid to satisfy my shallow Hal complexity that grieves without a large surface area of cum. It’s a visual exercise of give and take. Output vs input. The Carnot effiencicy. Ya know? Ok, well, that last one I didn’t know about myself until, that is Elon Musk Tweeted that. Like it, like I’m saying he tweeted just the word. I always had this fantasy that I was secretly a genius and high profile geniuses out there have been hiding me behind poor calculations and good intentions to keep me from ever gaining any power myself, until then, they syphonoff of my electrons currency. Lurking in shadows, leaching off of the double bounce of my brains density model, riding the same tracks, like bummy IQ wusses holding their thumbs out in the cosmetically informative round about, hoping to find a train of thought  I could hop.

I would yellI began to summon up depositions that have attached themselves to my archival record.

Like any bad habits you will take your licks, eventually for,  and after you’re finished sinning.  I turn into a mad scientist when it comes down to rationalizing negativity. Especially, when it is our own fault we keep indulging in taboo behavior. I should say my own. I was running out of crawl spaces to call my own, because just like that annoying song that keeps playing over and over again in my head, “the walls are really too thin.” If sex was commonplace in any common room or living area the damn convention, it’s very nature, would lose the ridges to it’s high rise treles, and it wouldn’t feel nearly as lofty ricoshaying off of lame backboard. It’s like masterbating is so much fun until you have to do it for a fertility test. Then it just seems so mechanical, despite the clinical setting feeling super not how, you think of your ideal mating habitat. The businesslike attitude of it all actually was what got me off most. When you’re lacking the ability to connect to other beings it helps to recall the situation as being systematic. Those are the best loads to tug out of ones cock, the lodged store of sweet sweat juice tucked deep under your groin, felt a kin to when you’re on the verge of throwing up and your mouth just fills all up with saliva. When the capacity gets to be too high you know what the natural next step would be… to release your rumchata all over the bar separating what goes too far but while bringing something back. An experience. So far loaded, in the back of your mind I start to believe in past lives but in a way where it’s kinda still our same life, it’s just the NPC’s are of a different elk, but overall, the general nomenclatures perked the same old heads up in the fractal frequency. The faces are just looking different because it would cost more for this place to recreate someone, special, and on demand from your memory.

Russia invaded Ukraine today. I kinda don’t know how to feel about one of the first times the bully made America look like a chump. I mean, usually we go to war first and then leave with our tail between our legses, due to our detrimental disregard when doing our posturing. The problem with optics is it satisfies an internal need to feel confident your sperm or seed decided correctly when cracking it’s scalp past the bridge of your mothers seed. Well, the seed kinda goes into, my, I guess my mama’s egg, that seed being my fathers. My dads. Although, what makes an egg a catacomb is the space it gives a prospect to grow within it, but, it seems a seed grows its own sorta kinda corn from the internal of his crux, in a way that’s more becoming of a physical being and specimen. She is the space. Lord bless the life that loved it so much, it took “making it” and spun that into being it’s Gataca funded power. Manifestation means the ability to bring about super minutely catagroraphed experiences, being the plumbing on people is the fundamental difference beside some peek statistical study. Fancy. Jolly Rogers liked to call people fancy when complimenting the dynamics of two flirty individuals. I always thought that was cute. He’s sorta hot but in a, like perverted way. Looks like the goddamn pessimist in the Lovely Bones, you know it’s bad when you can watch an old man fall violently down a Rocky Mountain and you still be cheering, thinking nothin of it, in fact. He looked just like him. That lovely bones motherfucker, looks like, goddamn, Mr. Rogers from MR. ROGERS NEIGHBORHOOD. He looks perky AF but in a slick, feminine type of way, which I’m sorry not sorry, leads one to assume he’s bit sneaky, him being skinny means he’s obviously light on foot. Such a slender pointy face makes one wonder why God designed this animal to be so trust lusting, like a YMCA camp councilor who lures the weakest kid in camp to have a secret breakdown, when no one’s around, & after the inability, eventually and does, start to get to him. The fact that he can’t make no new friend requests accept him in the fake and digital world made him wonder why he had so much love to give and no buyers for what he was selling. HE became rambunctious inside the thought that he could caramelize a vengeful fruit of a connectivity spark with another animal crawl space by paying for it’s new collar, or A new toy, or bigger convoy, blue cheese burgers, whorey on a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, and just about any day other than when I didn’t want it because it took me shagging mc jagger… ok ok ok, so you caught me. I was that fat little Twink tween loser kid who grew to learn you gotta dam your water sometimes if you want to get the most out of it. You must look at your talents and prospect at a Birdseye view or like assassins creed, storming through the pigeon coops and castles. Play divide and conquer with what you may be entitled to, in my case, it is trading a life in search of a genuine, whole feeling that fills the lungs up like an asthmatic swelling their windpipe with the warmth of a heated blanket.  Or permanently sharpening your motors carburetor with trauma PTSD and bad decisions which I’m pretty sure would all center kinda around the same thing.

“Take the path of least resistance.” My school mediator would say to me. At least when I was jerking off so loudly and near the outside as I can possibly get. I waited till it got too dark though, never the less, I vexed this rainy day with my blossom I was rubbing gainst the auras of passerby who were, none the wiser, while being, all the too hip to some animal correspondence that preserved the picking up of bouiserious beauivior as being, a well, one of the more honest. That’s why Trump rocked when he sold you straight down to hell. We were all there to feel it. Have a free radical come in and shake up the juncture so bad, people will give way their lassos just out of straight fear, beer tosses your bucket, because white claw at least gets you more hydrated. ‘’’

Inflation went up on the life inside my mind and many including myself were in this weird begin, of being literally forcibly hyoerractvie due to electromagnetic sequence let off to disrupt ou r own internal affairs, because going to war costs way too much and of so little of people, the military industrial complex dynasty was soon tasked with humping into submission the 4th blockchain of government, the free press who are as free as virgin nuns walking around with anal beads, tightly squeezed within their cheeks, the lemming’s must’nt ever know how sister Margeret prefers to clutch her pearls all day, then oh but once before she goes to sleep, better prolong the inertial turnaround of “thank you chef” wishes, Holding my heart so closer near be disgrace, for psychonics playing centipede on an old system and in the boiler room, have their weird afflictions like nose candy and always saying grace, despite leaving the faith neither of whom being any sense of a day worth a hum dee dum ounce of desperately to make a name for the way you are living before your last surviving parent cries ollyollyoxenfree, tumbling down into the well of forgotten forever, in hopes to recant the stain of your memory on their deep and lumpened skull. WEEEEEE, I wanted to say as I pumped the butter stick churning new life over and over inside of me, splattering my pancake batter all within the pool of my human drool. You ever feel like your spit should have colors?