sweet and sour fucking friday

i appeal to not using capital letters the way i appeal to not actually saying why the fuck i write this entry. you see, all in all the deeper the hole seems to go, the more entangled i happen to want to be. the hole is not irremediable, my jump was not irremediable, the outcome is not irremediable - i for some fanciful reason know how to float and stop the plunge. i chose, i have made every single damned choice which has lead my atoms to this point, so why should i run away? fuck your answer to that, and fuck their answer to that, too - i stand up to my decisions, to my errours, to my horrours and to my moments of joy. so, do not come up with words of fear and prevention and wield them as wisdom. you are not i and i am not you, and all you may do is think and spit, and i shall listen. so, yeah, i am angry, so, yeah, i listen to the same old song over and over and over and over and over again, so, yeah, i talk to myself and think to myself and write these lines to myself without contemplation to anyone else because as i said in common words which are all a colossal cliché i am my worst enemy. o you, and all you, have nothing to do with nothing of this since i have no control of nothing regarding you. this is a bodacious and vulgar rant meant to say i see the path ahead and despite the fear which blurs my whole perspective i won´t turn away. my lord has left me, my brother has turned his back on me, but the constant drama i dare wrap myself up simply washes away when i boil in the red sea. make sense not of this, just read it and lick it as you would your sweaty index finger. look at me. feel how i look at you. this is all that matters. these words are just words. these sentences are just sentences. angry sentences. dispose of them. please, do not do so with me. have you ever seen a man burn? any day of the week? how about seeing him burn on a sweet and sour fucking friday?