What are you
supposed to do
when your best friend
won't play vidya with you?

I am the singularity,
a golden omniscience
granted unwavering clarity
over all that passes
through my eyes.

I am God of my life.
I blink,
and everything is gone.

I sleep,
and everything is gone.

I'm right,
and everyone else is wrong.

It's exhausting.
It never ends.
I merely humor you all,
that's why I'm always laughing.

I ****** my pants
on my way home from work.
It soaked through
the seat of my pants
into the seat of my lifted Jeep
that I bought to compensate
for my crippling erectile dysfunction
that plagues my already
miniscule *****.

I got home and didn't even change my pants,
I took them off in the driveway
and wrung them out into my mouth
and just put them back on.
Drinking my own **** has always
been my secret way of enhancing
my paltry intelligence.
I was so stupid before I started drinking ****
and now I'm less stupider. I'm more less dumb. I'm getting more less dumb every day.

I **** myself too the other day but
that was just a bad roll of the dice
on a big ****. Snake eyes.
Big brown snake eyes.

Poetry is a ******* ******* and half-assed
way to express yourself.
People that write thousand of poems
on some throwaway website
might as well be screaming into a pillow.
They're useless people,
washed up, lazy,
and generally possess zero actual talent.

It's a medium designed
for pseudo-intellectuals to eternally
pat themselves on the back
for doing the bare minimum
of creativity.

Oh we're all so in touch with meaning,
oh we're all so ******* wasted on our
own sick sense of self-aggrandizing glory.

Poetry is for ******* ******* *******,
ineptitude on display
for other clapping, barking seals
to parrot and repeat
for eternity.

Never going back again,
that old bridge
on a snowy day.

But I'm there every other day
inside of my mind.

Ain't even my friends,
not half of them.
Not anymore.

But I'm certain that
we used to be.

These ******* people
I surround myself with
make it impossible
to enjoy the
allure of death.

So I guess I'm cursed
to keep on living.

Thanks a lot.

******* *******.

Those little white bottles
to help you smile.

The long drives to work
and home again.

You were beautiful
and miserable then.

It's easy to forget
the miserable part
when looking back.

It's easier to forget
everything about you.

But my dreams
will always remember.