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corporalclegg

i write things i see, the butterflies above the meadow
the songs in the cold september sky
in the sky the clouds, who could see them?
they look like drawings to us, works of the great master
our lord the sky, jesus christ and all of his golden women
taking golden showers, shitting on my balding head


i’ll show them that i’m not cynical, that these are just a play of words
twisted around by my aching brain, my ill mentality
sure i want to fit in, i want to have sex with shitloads of dirty skanks with worms in their pussies
but i can’t… i have wounds on my back, i am disfigured.
i am a great tub of bubbling anxiety
my friends are cruel to me… they dont give two shits about this
or my mentality or any shit like that…. who cares who cares who cares

this is just me…………………



i feel like i am falling asleep all the time
not just in this moment in time
but perpetually i am reborn, out of the stinking cave, the wormhole that i must twist and writhe to break free, to cry and die and be born alive again… free into a pool of blood, of stinking boiling man chili… who, who, who will cry for the poor children? who will testify against the will of satan. the world of all worlds, the fat men sitting on their fancy linens, their fine elegant tails. who will tell me, tell my mother, when this is all over? when i can breathe again, see the sky in many colors, who can tell the world of the glory beyond… of our own delusions, of our little shithole of a world.

this must all end… i must take what i value most. in a world where values are things that i will not obtain, i will not be sold them in this world market. the value of values is so little, it is not worth a henny penny. it’s not worth kurt cobain’s hairy little ass. but oh my shit, who would’ve known it was so cute?

surely, surely, these are all not true. i only see the reflection of my shitty face, instead of my good face.



in my little shit bubbling tub of lard with little doogies floating around

i will now take this chance to talk to myself
why is this world so shitty but you don’t realize it?
what makes you go on in life? what is it, your mother? because she sure doesn’t seem important now.


what are you ever going to become? some shitty fat old balding pimple punching fuck head who lies around in his bed thinking about this shit? you’ll be old by then. you’ll feel even shittier. your heart will feel like it’s exploding. your arms will tremble. your shit will dribble. and you’ll want to experience this jump, this high, many more times. you will want to become more clean in your visions, to make sure there are still no stains through your window of perception. you will breathe the toxicity of the air, it will feel bad, but you’ll ignore it until you become used to it. by that time, you’ll have been sucked into society. you’ll just be another cell being acquired by phagocytosis. you will never feel like you see it this clearly. the clocks will keep ticking, you’ll change your clocks, but you won’t change the little gears inside them to make them go slower. so why, why do that math homework? why fuck yourself over, your brain over, by surrendering it to be absorbed by shit? tell it to fuck off. you’ll die before then. you will die because you will know this.


i wish i could be talking to someone. i could tell them all this. but they wouldn’t care, they never do.

stop typing your brain.


man fuck. the brain is so fucked up. its like a little baby that you spoonfeed crap into, and it starts believing its chocolate.

 

corporalclegg

i admit that i was very high my first time and furthermore had an overall kind of negative experience when it came to thinking about things... i usually am not this angsty but in my head it was like there were two sides of my brain constantly fighting... a lot of the stuff that i used to think when i was emo and shit in high school came out again when i wrote.

cockholster101

I'm pretty stoned. I take it you're a Kurt cobain fan, huh.