the game of fuck

gotta pee like urgent. what time is it? 4:14am, asshole. my veins are alive with wasted excuses and faked happenstances. not sure who i need to love, but i'm pretty sure she's not a fan of mine. all of this is made up and unreal, copied from popular films and catchy songs. i have little allegiance and even less belief. you cannot hold me much longer. i go talk to drugs and stumble into clever phrases, wrap myself up in boredom and distraction. this is not nonsense, this is heartbreaking. the promise of money allows a moment's lapse of judgement. i have to concentrate too hard on these sentences to really convey myself right now. something about freedom, oblivion, elaborate disguises? everything i do is for effect, nothing holds anything more than slaughtered time and evaporated lies. this itself is flimsy and vacant, like my fucking insides. I AM NOTLYING< ASSHOLE. I AM DIZZY WITH REGRET AND ANGER. i am nothing, i am barely alive. this means silence. unwritten, overwritten pledges. i run from yr hopelessness, curl up with my own. fuck yr game and yr cover story. my vacancy means more to me than a thousand flimsy character studies. i will NOT LIE WITH YOU i would rather drown in this fucking cold alone self-imposed hell of isolation. i don't fucking care if bill clinton and god think i am desolate and miguided, I ALONE LOVE YOU[lose myself] and ADORE OVERSIGHTS.