opium
The problem with virtue, as I've come to experience it during these past weeks of limboic hell, is that it is without reward.
Well, perhaps that's not entirely true, if one considers the relief of socially conditioned anxiety to be a reward, but I say fuck that. That's blackmailing if anything,
CANT YOU STOP COUGHING YOU CUNT
and in her blissful sleep the maternity asks me the most trivial of questions. As if the morrow's meal mattered. As if I was even going to be around tomorrow.
Nah, virtue is overrated.. at least while being virtuous. Yet the mind colours the distant gray grass in unnuanced green, as rebirthed memories fade again.
To be a simple beggar, clad by the priestess in a golden crown.
To be a child, believing the loving lies of the distant mother.
To be a man, waiting for nothing.
To be hollow, believing for belief's sake
The coughing stopped. The frustration went from "crazed self-hurt" to "let me sleep away this time wasting bs".
I - Had - The - Time - of - My - Life DIRTYBIT ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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ALSO! I really fucking despise whatever the FUCK it is that's making all this god forsaken text mush. I want to be able to CLICK ENTER
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