Cum and go.
Clean up and leave the house. Grab my cigarettes and my wallet. My watch and my phone. Off to a night of debauchery and sexual deviancy. No time to write.
DON'T FUCKING READ THIS. STOP READING THIS. THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE EPITOME OF AN INTELLECTUAL THROW UP. STOOOOOOOOOOOP.
I can tell you are still reading this. Why though? How am I able to do this? Perhaps it is NLP. You don't even know what that is, right?
Funny how I am saying ABSOLUTELY nothing right now, yet you are still reading. Your eyes are going right and left, up and down.
"What does that weird internet guy is blabbing about? I don't know, but I feel sexy reading him..."
How am I doing that?
It's my one super power. I am a rap writer. [trademark]. This is my thing. My one superpower. I have the best flow on the blog. No one can beat ME!
Yes, I am crazy and YES, I may suffer from demons and what not, but I am. I AM!
I do things. I exist and live a life. I am real. More real than any other stupid fuck you're reading when you are bored. I can make you dance like a monkey, because I talk like a human person (no typo).
It's like you are in front of me and I look straight into your eyes and you look back and we make a silent nod of agreement: "We are pretenders"
But I am NOT. I don't care for most, but I care for you. Not you the reader. For whoever is in front of me. I really care for people. On a deep level. I hurt when I look at them. I have the suffering of the world imprinted in my automated responses.
I could have ended up a whiny bitch. I was made from the same ilk hippies were made. But something went wrong (or extremely right!) along the way and I broke down 3-4 times. And I made steel. And a sword.
And I am me. And I am sharp and tough and I cut like a glass.
If I could summarize my life in 3 words: Hit or Miss
Yeah, sounds good. Because it is accurate as fuck.
If you are still reading, I want to have sex with you. Unless you have a wee-wee.
- Thatredbeardguy
