I want to smash my face with a three pound hammer

I want to smash my face with a three pound hammer.

I want to have sex with a dwarf, and maybe she would call me a cunt after I come in her.

I Want a crow to peck my eyes out.

I have given up.

I am drunk.

Fuck Camus.

I want to fuck the corpse of Jean Paul Sartre.

Screw it.



  1. So many good things.


  2. I dig you. You may be the coolest person I have encountered and I have a real desire to learn truths about you. What is your real name? Are you God? Do you own a three pound hammer?


  3. I’m an ass. This is spam


  4. at first i thought i was gonna be reading an extremely dope poem.

    i ended up reading an extremely dope semi-poem. and clenched my jaw because the image of smashing ones face with a three pound hammer made my toes hurt.

    and i am finding it impossible to discuss this without referring to ‘the self’, without using first person pronouns because the piece/post/poem has entered my body completely.

    and now i am feeling this comment has grown unintentionally homoerotic. sorry.

    but i love camus. i really do. so you can have jean, the prick.


  5. I love Camus too. The myth of Sisyphus and The Stranger are two of the most meaningful works of the 20th century (I think).


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