So I'm sitting here, over there, unable to sleep - maybe, unwilling to sleep - musing, musing about all sorts of dismal things. Life is short, unbearable, and interminably long. What to do? What you so-and-so do? Why the fuck do we care what so-and-so would do? What the fuck will we do?
I'm sitting here, over where?, crippled by this waken state of slumber, wondering how far over the edge is too far? This botched experiment most certainly will overshoot the ledge and touch that point of no return; terminal, time to bail and cut your losses and count your ill gotten gains. Fuck, the spiral's too soft, too seductive, too goddamned comfortable to get off of. The spiral will get you off for a cheap, illusory, release.
Sitting here, in here, contemplative, alone, fading back into plastic consciousness. Sadistic, cruel, vindictive reality lays it on thick. I'm fading, the next blink may be my last. But its a silly concern, I'll open my eyes, once again, to reality enhanced, reality in bright flashing fucking lights, reality in HD. I'll be there. I will have finally arrived at rock bottom of the fucking abyss.
Slouched over this rickety three legged piece of shit, all those nightmarish bogeys those murderous merchants of hyperreality peddled conspire against me. Sleep and be free, be free to do as you're told. You're free to do as you're told. Sleep and consent, sleep and we'll take care of the rest, sleep and be happy; happy with a yellow fucking smiley face. Sleep now, dear, leave the rest to us. Dear? Dear? Dear chump, you're here; you might as well be dead.
Laying on the cold floor, staring at a chipped ceiling, my face betrays the slightest trace of a smile. Enhanced reality wears down. Errors and deformities blot the fucked up smooth slick skin of plastic eternities. I can see home; I can see, with heavy eyelids, clearly again.
