A spoonful of sugar.
Mary Poppins had it right.
We’re all junkies.
Addicted to the unhealthy survival of our repugnant species.
I think about sucking Charles Darwin’s cock.
Think about what it must have been like on the USS Beagle after Charlie had had one too many and started referring to the giant tortoises as his pets.
And you’re no less guilty than I am as you wait for a loved one to die so you can rummage through their most prized possessions and pick their bones clean like a vulture.
I imagine having a pussy with teeth and begging Trump to go down on me so my pussy can bite off his head and spit it into the gutter like more orange combed over trash.
When’s the last time you felt fresh as a daisy?
When’s the last time you ate a bowl of sugary cereal in your decaying underwear?
When the last time you pushed someone’s buttons just for the heck of it and enjoyed when they became annoyed and unfriended you on FB?
When was the first time you let someone take you in their mouth and enjoyed shooting your semen down their unexpecting throat?
Some people will be horrified by what I write.
Others will understand I’m just doing what I’m told as the voices in my head invite me out to lunch and then stick me with the bill.
I remember doing a feature reading with a nun and how she explained to me that shock value was for the birds.
She was right, but what she didn’t get is that none of what I'm doing do is for shock value and only when the rifle’s chamber is devoid of bullets will I stop firing into the crowd.