We’re gonna to wait until our parents die, then take the inheritence to Vegas, we’re gonna strike it rich, then eat at fancy restaurants tipping the dishwashers along the way.

Over by the sink, the markings of a madwoman. A bloodied knife and some pills. Look, over there! By the sink, the markings of a madwoman. The knife was a gift from my parents, they never would accept our love. The pills, I am unaware of their origins. But, the knife, it was a gift from my parents. I believe there was music playing in the foreground of our lives at that particular moment. It was the fifth of a forgotten symphony by the lost one.

A man lifted weights alone in his basement. He was bench pressing 200 pounds. He had become fatigued by the 8th repitition. The bar slowly began to lower toward his throat. Could it have been, the death of a young man? No, only a bruised ego would come of this. For he was able to place one half of the bar over to the side of him and quickly move just as the 200 pounds came crashing down on where his life was.

There she sits, waiting for the moment to become clear. As dusk approaches and objects turn to shadow. Following the footsteps from the lands end. I saw at the edge, a body with the expression of a monk.

I beat a crack dealer down with a dildo. No joke. Was the oddest fucking day of my life. You can underestimate me all you'd like. However, you're only fooling yourself.