Rant.

Chill. Vibrant environment, bright, glowing hard. But homely, comforting. But social, coming-and-going in moment, and movement, movement. And I relent. And I withdraw, and I have given myself withdrawal. And I have taken myself away from these things but only to observe the spectacle. I have taken on the role of card 9 most intimately and, besides that, masturbation helps. Always helps. I will achieve another vibrant place. I will achieve another sex muffin. Right on the grounds I've been laying. I will archive my mischievous grin. My shitty attitude. I swear, I will make up for this with love. I will make up for every dirty thought with love, too. I swear. But I've over-dignified the situation already. Just be in my company. I'm vulnerable 98% of the time. Eager to observe the world as it orbits around you. Eager to observe the whole world, even in horror. I fuck up every time. This is my soul resume. My afterlife aftercare. My unbelievable psychological concoction of epitome and demise. A sweet tart. A smiling cat. I always thought they were distanced and strange. How do you read me? I feel like dancing and I've felt like dancing since the first time I danced. These days are so severe. These subtle, inexpressive moments filling in the loose ends of expression itself. I have a regret to digest. I have a regret to dance out. I have an idea to put away. I have a romantic idea I have yet to put away. I'm stirring in the shit of my dreams. I'm stirred up in all the curious ends. Was I manifesting totally completely but not consciously? I'm a helpless character in love. I should come with a tattooed disclaimer. A regret for later. A regret I can't digest. And the whole scope of things I've cared for and the whole scope of fallacies I've fallen for and the secret snakes and the roaring lion. I have a twisted path to follow. I'm imitated it here on earth. I swear, soul! I've got SOUL much lovin' and I aint bound to forget. I have every intention to laugh. I may cry so bitterly you'd be set a cast uncomfortable, but I will end my day with laughter. I had things I cared for. I'm not about to go bitter, that's why I've let myself weep so. I will bow down to my fool and scream most hysterically. In my home I am secure. I am self-sufficient and wholesome: wholesome, prone to dirty talk. How would you respond? Now my wings have to make me fly. Now my youth has to be good for something. All; fucked up. Cast aways. Hey, we congregate in this city. It's surreal when you think about anything. I told them I was feeling better, less horny. But I'm feeling as devilish as can be. I can't stand my own scent for a second. I hated myself for a second. But no thing within me knows how to believe that. I'm alright. I'm as decent as decent come. I've got a strong sense of European hospitality. And I will do you every good you do me and more. And I will kill you if you kill me. Sometimes I take defeat; conquered. I've held Blasphemy in my hands. I've known the culprit in every devious robbery of spirit. The sky cries as much as I do. It's freshwater spring. Mating season, the perfect time to feel lonely. Repeated idiothood. This city, this city. I am every piece of existence pieced together. I reach out to people. Like the sun bursting through thick clouds. I reach out to my furthest extent. Typically, they're interesting enough. Typically, I can smell some sort of distance-past, some sort of hidden memory. Smoking a medicinal kind of wisdom of the fool. Soaked completely in this revolting paradise. The beast of soul! The human is a craven, wonton, unbelievable creature of the soul. In this way, my ultimate self can be any other self. I am the fool. I trust my fool most of all. I will follow my fool down to the end. I have trust in the end. I am the fool.