He thrashed violently at the crowd.
He didn't know what they were saying
Only that they were yelling
And he hated being yelled at.
He liked his mud
He liked his stink
And he did not like an audience.

And here we have it ladies and gentleman.
A scene before your eyes.
A man who had it all
Everything
Good health
Good family
The best friends.
But instead he chose this.
Look at him now
Dancing his merry tune.
Be fascinated at how exhausted he is
Simply breathing.
Astounding is it not?
Well
Good people
That's not all
Watch what happens
When we give him
A gentle
KICK!

The corset grows tighter
The mind thickens with the weight of the plot
The screen gets brighter as the moon clouds the sound
The viens grow nearer to the claws that keep them flowing.

Does the drop. At the bottom of the well. Feel as freeing. As it looks. For those that. Peer. Longingly. Into its depths.

Does a dozen make a dime?
Does a dime make a difference?
Does a difference make a dossier?
Does a dossier make any sense at all because this is making about as much sense as your life which is as delightfully nonsensical as this script.

So. I look like a massive *******.
When all is do is self deprived nonessential cuntish behaviour.
Those outside can see with clarity.
What's happening to me.
But on the inside those outdoor eyes are always so unfriendly and hostile and, just, well, ******* nosey.

Did you enjoy the trip to Derbyshire Brenda?
You know, the one where you met that stupid ******* cowboy impersonator
Named Carl.
Yes Carl.
Yes THAT Carl.
The one that gave you VD.
Yeah so I was just asking because, guess where I am and guess who I'm stood next to!