put my forty in the freezer cuzz im going to get bent tonight

I remain vapidly stagnate, indolently lost, self-destructively regressing to ill forms of managing the ferocious, virulent fiend that depravedly seeks escape from the shackled walls of the grimy, putrid caverns in my heart. My energies have exhaustedly grown weak in futile efforts to secure this ego absorbed monster, whose sole motivation is to slowly devour me with malice and lechery, from busting free.

Sadly, I have no other means to cope with the incessant wrestling with this internal demon, but to drown the harrows with cheap boozes and legalized scheduled two pharmaceuticals, which usually renders me in a demented blackout state. All other forms of coping have proven to be pseudo remedies and counterfeit solutions.

Woefully, death doesn't even offer reprieve as it taunts with a haunting and unnerving uncertainty. With not even a peak behind the formaldehyde curtain, I'm fucked. So, I must abjectly choose life. My internal reservoir of life sustaining resiliency is running low. Luckily, however, I have enough strength to hold this bottle of malt liquor tautly, forging down the bleak path of insecurity to make it through yet another dark day.

crazy night

So, Im sitting here futilely wrestling with a truculent bout of insomnia. I wish I had a bottle of liquor to drown the paranoia that simmers beneath the surface of my fragile ego, which keeps me miserably awake, but I dont. Im shit out of luck. To make matters worse, I just sold my last sack of weed three hours ago...

Fuck it, though. I got one joint left. Alas, I will savor this sacred stick of greenery and embrace every last THC particle that fills my lungs with a zealous devotion, passionately holding in the anesthetizing smoke tumultuously taut, and then, blow it out with a fervent yet lecherous kiss.

Hopefully, the weed will work its magic and arrest the internal demons that relentlessly haunt my beleaguered mind, letting normalcy reclaim some type of stabilizing lucidity, so I can fall asleep.

Indolently, an hour has come and gone, with my high in tow. Now, I am at my wits end, no respite forthcoming. Plus, I am fucking hungry, but feeling to slouchy to get my ass up out this chair. As rays of sunlight begin to trespass through the mini-blinds, every noise I hear are becoming insufferable nuances. I guess I have re-arrived to cloud-cuckoo-land--stay indefinite.

Or, could it be my parole officer with a warrant, a handful of drones, looking in and snooping around my apartment to see if Im in attendance, so she can deliver my felonious ass back to the penitentiary for rehabilitation, reprogramming, or whatnot... Who fucking knows? I am a fucking mess. At least I got cable.... shit!

biblically cursed

As I lay here scantly clad in bed, I'm infinitely beleaguered by how fear has so blindly mauled and mangled my potential for doing something greatly magnificent in life. From a very early age, I knew I was destined to accomplish extraordinary achievements others seldom obtain. I was full of promise, perseverance, and resiliency throughout my upbringing despite the harrows held secretively captive in a house of horrors. Back then, I dreamed big, envisioned a life without gratuitous pain and intolerable suffering, a life rife with unconditional acceptance, undying warmth, and a profundity of love.

These days, the endless drive that fueled my thoughts as a youngster has sadly dissipated into a thin smoke of disillusionment. Naught appears to be able to reignite that spark, that fire, that determination I once had. It seems like emotional ineptness only grants me permission to writhe and wallow in the harrows that haunt my heart. The intensity of such torment drastically increases woefully with every passing year.

Staring at life through the lens of troubled eyes unconsciously positively reinforces my negative beliefs about others, about the world, about myself; that is, moral decay is abundant, cruel savages continue to dictate social propriety, and self-depreciation remains wildly unchecked. It appears hope of a better future has been maliciously strangled, callously impaled, and set center stage for the demonic public to feast their fiendish eyes upon.

Ultimately, there has to be a way out of this dreadful and bleak plight. My sufferings must come to an optimistic end. My love for life must be recaptured before my mind grows ill, weak, and begins festering with an incurable case of stagnation. I direly need to find a way through the depravity that hinders my pursuit of happiness and overcome my fear of inadequacy.Alas, I desperately need and long for positive, perpetual change in my life.

Pathology's contagious

I feel like I'm sinking in a quicksand of psychosis. Deeper and deeper I descend into this sickening abyss. I look for someone to extend an olive branch to pull me to safety in a frantic panic, but I'm haplessly forsaken. No friends, family members, or a good samaritan in sight. A bleak despair is inching its way up my lower extremities, making my inner thighs quiver in a spasmodic morbidity. As I struggle to free my left leg in a vain futility, beads of stifling sweat trickle profusely down my fear laden face.

Now, I'm covered waist deep in neurosis. I reach for a piece of sanity to clutch onto for stability, but it sadly breaks at the brink. Exhaustedly helpless, my heart beats erratically, pausing periodically. I begin to feel dizzyingly faint. My vision blurs into a thin tunnel of pallid light. Overwhelmed by hopelessness, blackness envelopes my consciousness, as my body falls limp, buried up to the eyebrows in a psychological malady.

Dark days

I only have a tiny inclination on what has blindly robbed me of motivation, which seems to be an unyielding battle with false expectations, hallow dreams, and a faulty, vext belief system. As consequence, psychiatric maladies appear plentifully abundant as they have jaggedly splintered my tortured psyche. These intra-psychic conflicts seethe just below the sub-conscious during daylight hours and boil over into consciousness as twilight emerges. At night, I’m rendered incapacitated by these haunting thoughts of depravity: tossing and turning, profusely sweating and silently crying out for reprieve. Naught interrupts the terror but daybreak; that is, when my psyche has regained enough fortitude to suppress the harrows back into the catacombs of my troubled mind for which they dwell, menacingly.