Kosmic Blues

So I finally checked my emotions and got the memo that love is bullshit. Everybody knew this already which makes a lot of sense now you fucks. Here I been getting misty eyed and planning speeches while everybody is pretending like a regular person and bouncing around like hot rabbits.

Invented by bacteria as a sex part magnet, love is a tool used by the wicked to trade people, property, wallet sizes, tiny people and bodily fluids. It sells exactly one song, rocks and uncomfortable clothing. It gives you the classic “look over there” while it drains your bank account, precious lifespan and enthusiasm for doin it.

And now society has shoved its gross ass love all down my throat and got me feeling like half a person just because I ain’t making some poor lass deal with the slow heat death of my anxieties. If I don’t make a girl like me with lies and haircuts, somehow figure out what comes next and then marriage I am not doing my part for the overall mass of the human population.

If it were up to me I would jump this train wreck, deal without text politics, frown conversations and the dramatic soundtrack. I would take my lonely island in a sea of booze thank you.

But the songs are already my favourites and my nerves got me too big of a heartbeat and what I’m really trying to say is that I’ve had that god damn Janis Joplin song stuck in my head for three days now and I can’t afford to buy a plane ticket to move somewhere foreign and marry her ghost.

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