Untitled Agony

(author's note: one night while i was stoned, i sat down in front of my computer and wrote this in microsoft word. any capitalizations besides the first, and any apostrophes, are all done on part by word; this is simply what was going on in my mind at the time. enjoy, or hate, but do finish it if you begin. thank you.)

When the curtain goes up on the world, it is shown to be a great show, the greatest that there ever was, one so splendid that it is held as the most fantastic achievement of all time, this marvellous work by the hands of god, he who is almighty and creative genius, the man behind everything that happens, pulling the strings on all of his puppets, working us at his will, defeating us at his pleasure, fancying us when he's bored, telling us to fuck off when he wants to sleep and we call out his name in our own filthy despair, never giving the poor soul any time to rest, when really, he handcrafted the stage we all perform on twenty four seven, proving to all that our theatrics are worth something even if we are to be forgotten after our fifteen minutes of fame, or one hundred or so years of life, and when all is said and done, what will be left of us to cherish, other than a memory that can be manipulated by whoever wants to do so, using their own maliciousness to craft something vile and disturbing, even more so than our actual lives themselves, which entertains all who care to bask in the waste of life wasted by everyone for a little nothingness to do, after our lives and fame are gone, and we sit on the sidelines with the coach of our team, god, and his assistant, jesus Christ, he who apparently sacrificed himself so paris Hilton can suck dick, Jessica simpson can confuse chicken for fish, janet Jackson can look like Michael Jackson and flash unsightly forty year old tits, and some four gay guys no one cares about can be all the rage, even though no one cares, as they are doing what everyone else is doing, being a click on the clock, a tick to the tock, when the grains of sand fall, to be the last grain in the desert, edging towards the lake that will dissolve us all, death, he who never relents and kills us all like the poor suckers we know we are, unable to run fast enough like the gingerbread man, the fucker head, too fast for the tortoise to catch, but slow enough for society to grasp some context of smelling roses that would otherwise be considered a concealed weapon in any public place where people publicly act stupid because they all are anyway, so it isn't an act, only it all is, because we are those puppets on the string of the big guy upstairs, smiling down upon us, like a little kid with ants under the fucking thing that magnifies things, a magnifying glass as its called, and one can only think about it as a little kid does, that it's just a fucking ant to piss on or shit on or burn to hell, never giving any thought to the ant of the piss or the shit or the fire or anything else that no one cares about, because anything other than the thinker is exclusively not mattering for thought because everyone is pissed off at everyone even if they don't think about it, which is obvious by everything everyone does if its looked at the right way, though the rainbow never tells the sun to fuck off because it likes it or hates it, but just jerks off in its face and says ha bitch, I'm better than you because peeps love me, bitch, and that's about it, but it doesn't even matter what is said, the same with the bowling ball and pins, they have a love hate relationship that no one cares about or gives a jerk off about, like the ants or the stage we all defecate on with our own brilliant ignorance, fucking around like nothing matters, as it doesn't, but don't suppose it will ever change because he wont let it happen because it will ruin his darling little toy house and fuck up his shit worse than ecstasy and shrooms and some fucking hooker with every disease known to everything even though it wont affect the fat trucker man driving this rig of life, and the hooker will not see the end of the road anyway, falling off somewhere in between and tumbling down the hill like jack and jill, to find that they suck ass and are worthless and can never amount to jesus does squat, as they are but little pawns on the chess board, not even able to see the knights or rooks or bishops or even the fucking queen or goddamn king, the most worthless of all but who must be covered at all times for the sheer sake of looking good and being obviously completely worthless, but then there would no need to watch over the best of them all, the queen, she who can spit in the pawns face and say go suck a dick, peon, and will be listened to to the tee, never being faulted or wronged until one bad move slips her into crackwhorishness on the sidelines with the horny old coach and his little waterboy good doer who will obviously like to say hi how ya doing, and make the best of what little pathetic chance he has at having the bitch, for anything, like tarzan and jane, living in a jungle full of monkeys, what the fuck, is anything ever going to be completely sane in this world, probably not because of some big fucking ape who climbs shit and a bitchass lizard who breathes fire and shits out snot for you to eat for breakfast, ha ha ha look at you eating pieces of shit and snot for breakfast, you sick fuck, what the fuck's wrong with you, oh lord, you need help, but like the insane kid who is purely true and goodhearted you must be put away and locked without a key, the wrong pissing on the right and telling them to have a good fuck off, pissing in their slippers always, and making sure to be saintly and fuckworthy at the same time, pissing off he and he alike, but in between getting some good loving from a horny old black and white man with some gold in there too, never resting to have what he desires, some pretty piece of flesh, oh lord whats wrong with this can you never make anything sane and not fucked up like some poor kid eating shit and snot for breakfast, like some jack and jill falling down the hill like leppers and goddamn whats with that shit about some fucking thing that doesn't matter either like the motherfucking stage and the motherfucking shit and snot and the motherfucking puppets on the motherfucking strings, and the motherfucking motherfuckers who tell people to go fuck off, whats up with that, holy shit, I have no idea why this is like this, what is wrong with this place, this little screen that produces words, holy shit, whats wrong with this place, what is it called again, oh right a brain, a thing that should let me do stuff but confines me to nothing and everything at the same time, holy shit, this pisses people off tough though they don't release any of it until they realize it and go holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, motherfucker, motherfucker, motherfucker, shit and snot, shit and snot, shit and snot, bitch, bitch, bitch, jack and jill, jack and jill, jack and jill, what the fuck am I listening to this gaily played music fucked up worse than tits with rings, what the hell am I doing here, why must the coach play me starting line, first to come off, not come from jerking off, but first to leave the field, and leave behind the wonderful game.

fin