don't wanna

what if we all entered into a suicide pact? what if? well there's surely some flaw in that design that's glaring to most and hidden to me, but i can sort of feel that it exists, like a crack that'll break your mother's back, like it'll make you come back as a dog with an abusive owner

so, you or he or she or they can shoulder the burden, pick up my slack, while i pledge allegiance to nonexistence - does it have to be nonexistence? no, but probably - that's the cleanest, and somehow when everything's so messy, i crave some kind of ultimate cleanliness - cause whatever i do, wherever i go, nothing's gonna fix anything, nothing's gonna reverse time, not even nostalgia

there's really nothing more to write, there's no words to put it into - i'm in decline, premature middle aged burnout, and i know a drink won't help anything - perhaps transcending the wheel of life and death would help, that i could almost imagine, migrating to the center and watching everything spin with a grin, and giggling and gawking at the spectacle

why are there always little strands of hair that settle about anywhere i sit still? i think i can guess - will i ever know why the stomach is so upset? that i doubt

some people have strength for alcoholism - some people have joie de vivre in middle age - what is my excuse? i have none - can't be bothered to even look now - it won't add up

what if, instead of channeling feelings into physical self-harm, i dropped all this school that i can no longer give two tin shits about? and then what? well, i could help a woman i love not be lonely, cook and chauffeur, read stories