a.m.usement

Fucking images of a jiggling flaccid penis are going to arrive in tandem with the sunrise for me for a while, methinks. 

Images burned into my memory aren’t bad… Nice, even.

But, really? Is that really the most standout moment for you in recent events, brain?

You disappoint and humour me in equal measure.

Sooner or later

If Death is that creepy old guy on the bus edging his way ever closer to you, then suicide is to going over and sitting on his putrid cock when you should be getting off at your stop.

Metaphor down

Imma have a metaphor down when I’m feeling both drunk and articulate enough, which is a showdown using metaphors. The aim is to be as melodramatic and creative as possible, with extra points for continuity. There’s humour in it somewhere… I think. For example:

A: “My clarity of thinking is a single white dove against a grey sky that keeps being shot down with bullets of low self-esteem, cynicism and pure, unadulterated shit.”

B: “My heart is the dove’s cold, bleeding body, waiting on the moors to be eaten by a mangy, bony dog.”

A: “I am the mangy dog that comes and devours the dove, regardless of it’s beauty, that goes home to its master and gets beaten with a hard, hard turnip.”

And so on and so forth. I call this kind of thing fun, so I might see if I can have a metaphor down with someone later to cheer me up.