Start with a pitcher of blue Kool Aid mixed with meth. It will taste bad. Have you ever accidentally tasted comet® while cleaning your bathroom? A splash of shit, powder chemical, and chlorinated water splashes your tongue.
Imagine your drink tasted like that except you have poured a whole bottle of comet® into a pitcher. It tastes bitter, your taste buds will explode with dissent.
This is how we contemplate life. A pitcher of blue shit shatters on the bathroom floor. The jagged edges stab your wrists and forearms. Blood flows towards the toilet, towards the shower, towards the drain.
Here. In this misery, I feel your pain. I feel your uncoiled tentacles grip. Release me. Grip.
You can stir comet® all day and the shit never dissolves. You can stir Meth all day long and the shit never dissolves. You can wipe your shit on the toilet. You can smear blood along the rim.
You already know everything. Why do people search for the truth? Truth is easy to find. It's with us all along. It's the gut feeling we've always had. We aren't stopping anytime soon. We will always need bath salts, meth, beer and weed. We will always tell ourselves we'll stop. And we will never stop.
The brain pops like microwaved eggs on a plate Sunnyside up. The brain regrets and acts like it has nothing to do with you. Serotonin receptors ping pong a tell-all to any doctor worth his salt.
The bags below your eyes swell with fluid. Stings of pain run along your backside like tiny scorpions. You pop in and out of existing. Your brain works backward like a camera obscura. Sentences stay stuck in dark recesses. Words are forgotten.
The Kool°AID man stares through the wall. Shards of glass jump to the death from your hands. Cascades of sliver. Cascades of ice. One more puff. One more snort.
An ass crack runs down the wall. An ass crack runs against the floor. A blood, shit mess. This world. This world is a blood stained, shit, mess.
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