hello all you shallow, lonely, sad, drunk, pissed off, hate infested, angst
digested, depressed (delete as appropriate), let's all feel shit together, fuck
all the perfect people, i don't want to join their club. they all say get out
more, open your blind, catch the sun, it's there to be taken, but fuck all their
shiney happy bullshit,
my room is too safe, i can't face the sunlight
and the dirt
outside, why would you need to step outside anyway, the trees, the birds that sing,
the scent of cut grass, the smell of thunder, listening to pissed up talk other
than my own, but in my sony psychosis i see none of this, create your own climate,
all you need
is a walkman + a four pack, see the lines between
the flies, who will
read this. i do not know someone as lonely as i am right now, i waited all day for
that call, i'm on my own again, i'm in the arms of a killer, shit tv will take
over my life,
columbo, quincy (for president, the only true liberal in the usa), jessica
fletcher, neighbours i've quit, my brain is a pulp, my eyes are square, i can't
read for thinking of you, please play our records, drink so that i can't remember,
at least there is nothing to forget, fuck straight edge, i don't want to be my
parents, i am nothing and i should be everything, 'life is so strange, i don't
know why'. some days a record can save my life, other days i'm all alone, books,
music, TV, can't raise a smile. this is my manifesto, the diary of a nobody,
I do not own, yet i live with it, all my life, energy, nothing better to do.
The voices in my head, actually i hear nothing at all, but that is quite boring,
my senses are shot, numb the pain everyday.
i clean my teeth + i wash my face, i sleep, i read, i do nothing for hours on end, i watch TV, i
want to take over the world, i want to destroy the tory party, i could shoot william hague + feel
i want a world where everyone can sleep at night. the ten richest people in the world could end famine,
yet people starve, 300 people massacred in africa yet it makes one paragraph
in the national newspaper on page 12, welcome to the world that we live in.
Oxfam, communists should sanction murder, mike tyson's house for 29 million dollars, africa
lives in corregated iron shacks, russia is a fuck up.
'Get writing those manifestos kids'
crawling up the walls for your touch, this is where it gets personal, sitting alone at night, waking
with an ugly face that isn't mine would be so nice, just acknowledge my existance
somebody should I'm breathing your air + the trees are being destroyed, you need to
find me if you want to survive.
anyway, enough of the glass half empty bullshit, remember the days when you wake without a hangover, the sun shines,
it's nice to be alive, you're reading kerouac talking about what gives him kicks,
the bum on the street, yet his face is missing, and he has no home, + he hasn't
been sober since 1952, what the fuck is there to be happy about,
except your shallow self.