Anyone want to set me on fire?

I write things and think that they suck.

I listen to bad music and drink too much.

I eat mostly raw meat.

Like Ginsberg said: I gave you all and now I’m nothing.

I don’t have a point.

Your memory turns my blood to venom. Caustic ravening rot bloodblack shooting through my ragged torn veins until the decompression sickness brings me low and I have to find a bottle.

When did FTW stop meaning fuck the world?

What I mean is fuck the world.

Anyone want to set me on fire? I can pay.



  1. I can dodge bullets


    • For I am every dead thing,
      In whom Love wrought new alchemy.
      For his art did express
      A quintessence even from nothingness,
      From dull privations, and lean emptiness;
      He ruin’d me, and I am re-begot
      Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not.

      Do you want to pay me?


      • Donne always knocks me out.


  2. I admire that.


    • Dude, the paragraph:

      “Zack has on big high-tops.”

      Made me spew coffee.


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