Looking at life through shit tinted shades. Clarke suffers from pretty much everything his doctor tells him to. But then he meets Lilith Humus. Who makes him dip his foot into the deep end.


2. If love is blind, then mine has cancer

Hell can be a prison. But if you visit me I won't bite. I guess. 

I have a job.

I have a life.

I have disappointment. 


If you scaled every mountain in your way how are you supposed to run up the small hills. Every time something blocks my way. I let it. If life won't be easy. Then i will be a little bitch and cry about it. Because, well i can. Hookers, they are easy. Well, there is easy, and then there is money for a blowjob. Because that is all i really need. I don't need  in the person to stick around, or want to. I just need to feel like they want to. I just want to feel like i want them to stick around. 

I am, and always will be an optimist. I like to think i can tempt fate. I think this all on my way to walk. Typical desk job. The type of mundane shit serial killers do in the day time. The kind of shit pedophiles do in-between molestation. The kind of thing depressive people do because the long white collar shirts cover scars, long pencil skirts hide cuts. 


This is new world order.

This is collecting war wounds from the white collar struggle.

This is the mental breakdown you were too cool to have in high school.


I sit down. I have to rework the same shit i did yesterday. Because the boss didn't like the type face. What a cunt. I am rather fond of comic sans. Well, i say that. I am fond of how much it pisses people off. 'This is a legal document' He said.

'Is Comic sans illegal?' I ask.

'I fucking wish. I deleted that shit. ReFUCKINGwrite it.' Flecks of spittle fall from his mouth when he is angry.


If i was his secretary i could fuck myself out of any problem he causes me.  Sadly i am opposed to sodomy. Well opposed to self-imposed  sodomy. But you know. Everyone has a thing they like. Some people collect stamps. Some people kill animals. Some people enjoy anal sex. It takes all sorts i guess. 


This is the new world.

This is regular life now.

This is dogging in a world with smart phones.


I need therapy says my therapist. I don't want it says I. So says I. I am on the phone to her. Panic attacks are easy to hide when you are on your own. But in a three wall cubicle ears are everywhere. So I am in the bathroom. Door is locked. On the phone to this woman. This therapist. I wanna fuck her. But i also want her to cuddle me up and give me the love i never got from the people i wanted it from. Didn't want. Stopped wanting it from. Needed it from. Desired it from. 


She tells me to take deep breaths. I drop two Vicodin and nurse a semi in my trousers to her voice instead. 


What can i say?

I know what i like.


This is life.

This is ok.

This is ending soon. 

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