Today I wake up and look into myself to see I am, in fact, a pessimist and perhaps on an occasion a cynical nihilist who’s vices are evident and collaborative with sarcasm and slight vanity.
Today I see the dryness of my hair and the dryness of my mouth from screaming my stubborn debate to the gods who do not exist.
Today I drag the sled of carcasses from my dreams to my ever-changing new site of hope and inspiration.
Today I skin a rabbit and hang the filthy fur on the clothesline the way they do in the movies, for I’m nothing but a clone of the girl next to me wearing my shoes.
Today I drip the wax from a melting blue candle on the tips of my fingers to mold my fingerprints in justification for my moral crimes.
Today I hum the joyful tune of a death march and dial Fear’s number on my phone like a beaten drunk widow.
Today I laugh along to another torture **** with the light hearted grin of an ignorant child in a vacant church sitting beside the priest.
Today I go to bed with the infinite love for my grotesque face and inevitable feeling of satisfaction knowing tomorrow should be my last.