On Playing The Lottery

When I was back home in Milwaukee I met up with three of my best friends for a four day camping trip in the North Woods. We talked about countless subjects, but the one that kept coming up was all the dead kids we knew. Three more died in the past six months that I didn't even know about until this weekend.

The Sergeant, a two tour Iraq war infantry veteran, died in his bunk while stateside. The Army never did tell his family what happened to him, but we know that he ended up overdosing. See, he got straightened out when he joined the Army, but Iraq fucked up his head and he got back into using. He was 23 years old.

The Delivery Guy was a real troublemaker, but a good kid nonetheless. He had been a pizza guy ever since I had known him, he fucking loved it. He probably loved it so much since he sold dope on his routes. Well, unfortunately for him, he owed some people some money and they shot him twice in the face when he stopped to get out on one of his routes. He was 22 years old.

The Hookup was one of my former dope dealers, not really a savory character but someone I would call a friend. They didn't know a lot of the details on it other than they thought he OD'd. He was 26 years old.

It made me think, strangely enough, of playing the lottery. Now I don't play the lottery for money, necessarily, I have played for other...more important things. People play the lottery, for example, when they have children. Any number of things can come from childbirth, and the beauty of the process is that it cannot be rigged (for the most part). You could end up giving birth to the cure for cancer or giving birth to a shooting spree way down the line, you can never tell. One such lottery which I have played is the drug abuse lottery. I managed to come out on top of the experience ie came out with my life, health and most of my sanity. These three, and the few others who have gone on, were not so lucky.

I feel like I almost owe them something but I could never put my foot down on just what it was so I carry their memories with me wherever I go. When I see some of the kids I used to run with, these days, they look at me with disgust. Disgusted that I sold out, betrayed them and gave up the life. It confuses me because I look at them and am disgusted that they are still stuck in the same old mud. They didn't learn from all the ones who died or got locked up or shot.

I'd never change what I did, I won the lottery...I'm still breathing. I would not be the same person I was today without these stories. I know you probably get sick of hearing all of them, but I can't write about sex when I'm not getting laid so come out here and fuck me if you don't like it. I don't know, it seems like everything I have making me happy right now is finally working but I always need something to bother me and keep me down. It just helps that I have a lot of dangerous and self destructive friends to give me shit to be upset about. Its alright though, I'm doing fine, even though they are gone I'm doing ok...besides I just won the fucking lottery.

And So It Burns...

"The larger gauge of a Camel Wides cigarette makes for the smoothest most flavorful way to enjoy Camel's distinctive blend of the finest Turkish and Domestic tobaccos."

Yeah, and it also leaves a huge fucking burn too.

Normally I burn myself when I'm drunk, but this time I was totally sober. I leave this scar on my arm as a reminder of my mistakes, the people who have hurt me but most importantly the people who I have misled and betrayed.

I do not yet understand what this one means to me, I'm only beginning to get an idea. This one is so much more important than the other times. So much more pain behind this one. Scars are my tattoos and they are self inflicted. I love them but I cry when I look at them.

When you throw a rock at a window common sense tells you that it will break, but here I sit throwing stones and expecting the opposite. Wounded animals are dangerous. If I didn't have my friends I would have gone swinging from my ceiling fan long ago. They help me pick up the pieces and keep me on the path I need to be on, but when I betray them I feel like trash.

So, my friend, this is directed straight at you.

I am sorry I betrayed you.

Edit: Fuck it all.

Phone Sex / On Having One And Wishing It Was Another

I had left my phone on vibrate and missed three of her text messages. She had woken up from her nap and was playing.

“Call if you want to listen.”

Jen took me out to watch the Brewers clobber the Reds at Hooters (her choice) and we were back sitting on my couch watching TV. She was, unsuccessfully, trying to get me to fuck her (Hey my balls are still broken, lay off alright) and had already convinced me to let her stay the night; after all I didn’t want to be alone. I just was wishing it was someone else staying with me; no, not Meg…someone else. I saw my phone light up with that text message and didn’t even bother to come up with a decent lie, “I…uh um…gotta go…uh…make a phone call…uh yeah, I’ll be…uh…right back.”

“Sorry I took so long, my phone was on vibrate.”

“Mmmm, oh, that’s ok I waited for you.”

I could immediately feel my hardness growing in my pants as I sat out on the stoop in the humid air. She told me to talk to her, to tell her what I wanted to do to her if I had the opportunity. I lit up my Camel Wide and started my seductions.

“My beard would tickle you ever so gently as I trail my kisses along your thighs.” Fuck, she was breathing so heavily and moaning into the phone it was hard for me to even speak, I just wanted to listen. “Don’t stop talking,” she commanded and I was more than happy to oblige. I spoke and listened, but it was as if the two functions were divorced from each other in my mind, as if there was more than one person operating my body. I told her how I would kiss her thighs and how I would suck her entire pussy in my mouth. I told her how I would make her scream and how badly I needed to be inside of her. I could feel my precum running down my leg and could see the stain it was leaving as it soaked through my boxers and onto my jeans. I was rubbing the head of my throbbing cock through my jeans as she moaned.

We had done this once before, but she only wanted me to text her, “I’m not comfortable on the phone – yet.” Last night the comfort level was upped and I listened to her cumming over the phone with me. She was thinking about me while she was cumming; there is nothing sexier than that. I could see it so clearly in my mind, her back arched, a bead of sweat rolling down between her breasts and my cock buried inside of her. My mind was on fire and I couldn’t have cared less that I was being rude to my guest who clearly wanted me. The woman on the other end of the line was the only thing I was thinking about. My legs were all buttery and I felt like I was going to cum, the gentle rubbing through my jeans was enough, my balls didn’t even hurt.

I could hear her getting close and her words turned to incomprehensible sounds of pure ecstasy. Fuck! It was so hot, my precum was down to my left knee by this point (I am a very messy boy when I get worked up, which makes it kind of shitty at work when I read y’all’s sexy blog entrys and stand up with precum all over myself…assholes) and I was breathing heavily. My words were hitting her right in the pussy and I can only imagine how beautiful the sight of her fingers jammed up her cunt must be. I must fuck her…I MUST FUCK HER. The pictures were spinning around in my head: our two bodies intertwined as one, her cum running down my shaft, her words and moans hanging in my ears. By this point my lust was insatiable, I was telling her how badly I wanted to cum all over her and she said she would rub it in.

She let go, I heard it happen. She was probably the most vocal woman I have ever heard while she was cumming, it was incredible. It just about sent me over the edge, by now I needed to cum. I needed to cum on her, in her, all over her, cum for her, cum with her. I just needed to cum and I needed her to do it.

“Mmmmm, thank you sweet boy.”

*Head spinning* “It was my pleasure.” FUCK was that ever hot, I could honestly not believe how incredibly sexy she was when she came…if only I could have seen her face. We said our goodnights and I went back inside to Jen after about 15 minutes of pure arousal and build up. She asked me what was up and I just told her I was talking to a friend from somewhere not Cincinnati. I honestly didn’t even care; I wanted her to be the woman I just hung up with. If it was I would have fucked her brains out regardless of the stitches in my crotch, no matter how badly it hurt. I sat there looking straight through the TV and responding with one word answers. She laid her head in my lap and could feel my erection in my pants, it had been almost 45 minutes since my little phone call ended and I had been hard the whole time. “What’s this in your pants little boy?” I was wishing that it was not her; I was wishing it was YOU. If you could read this you would know how fucking badly I want you, it is incredible. Jen took my cock out of my pants, against my will, and began to suck on it ever so gently. She told me it was all she wanted and that she wouldn’t hurt me. Honestly the only reason I let her was because I had gotten so aroused by that call (and the past week of no orgasm) that my blue balls were unbearable. As she put me into her mouth I closed my eyes and let my head fall back. I never ever close my eyes when I am having sex or getting head, I am too visual I love to watch, but tonight was very different. I didn’t want it to be her at all, so I closed my eyes and imagined that it was my sexy woman on the other end of the phone. I forgot Jen was even there and just imagined someone else’s lips working my cock carefully and slowly. When I came I unloaded into her mouth, and it felt like I had just burst a levee into her mouth. It was one of the longest orgasms I have had; she could barely swallow it all. It felt incredibly good but I was disappointed beyond belief when it was not my phone call’s face when my eyes opened.

I know that sounds pretty bad, like I used her, but look she fucking did it and she wanted to stay over and all that…she pushed the issue, not me. Jen is a very good friend of mine and before the Meg incident I wanted to sleep with her, but I don’t want to anymore and I don’t know why. She stayed the night and it was nice to have her holding me and reassuring me that everything was going to be fine. I know I shouldn’t have gone and let her suck me off while I had another woman on my mind (and while my doctor told me not to) but I couldn’t help it.

I can’t help another thing either, I am fucking falling for the girl on the phone and I can’t help but think about her nonstop. I definitely should not be admitting this or doing this so soon after the Meg incident, but the only thought I have had in my head today is…

…Meg who?

Dry Your Eyes

I manned up last night, went to her house and...I got my answer. She didn't cry or flinch, her beauty was paralyzing and my heart...it broke.

In one single moment your whole life can turn 'round
I stand there for a minute starin’ straight into the ground
Lookin’ to the left slightly, then lookin’ back down
World feels like it’s caved in – proper sorry frown
Please let me show you where we could only just be, for us
I can change and I can grow or we could adjust
The wicked thing about us is we always have trust
We can even have an open relationship, if you must
I look at her she stares almost straight back at me,
But her eyes glaze over like she’s lookin’ straight through me
Then her eyes must have closed for what seems an eternity
When they open up she’s lookin’ down at her feet

Dry your eyes mate
I know it’s hard to take but her mind has been made up
There’s plenty more fish in the sea
Dry your eyes mate
I know you want to make her see how much this pain hurts
But you’ve got to walk away now
It’s over

So then I move my hand up from down by my side
It's shakin’, my life is crashin’ before my eyes
Turn the palm of my hand up to face the skies
Touch the bottom of her chin and let out a sigh
‘Cause I can’t imagine my life without you and me
There’s things I can’t imagine doin’, things I can’t imagine seein’
It weren't supposed to be easy, surely
Please, please, I beg you please
She brings her hands up towards where my hands rested
She wraps her fingers round mine with the softness she’s blessed with
She peels away my fingers, looks at me and then gestures
By pushin’ my hand away to my chest, from hers

Dry your eyes mate
I know it’s hard to take but her mind has been made up
There’s plenty more fish in the sea
Dry your eyes mate
I know you want to make her see how much this pain hurts
But you’ve got to walk away now
It’s over

And I’m just standin’ there,
I can’t say a word
‘Cause everythin’s just gone
I’ve got nothin’
Absolutely nothin’

Tryin’ to pull her close out of bare desperation
Put my arms around her tryin’ to change what she’s sayin’
Pull my head level with hers so she might engage in
Look into her eyes to make her listen again
I’m not gonna fuckin’, just fuckin’ leave it all now
‘Cause you said it'd be forever and that was your vow
And you’re gonna let our thing simply crash and fall down
You’re well out of order now, this is well out of town
She pulls away, my arms are tightly clamped round her waist
Gently pushes me back and she looks at me straight
Turns around so she’s now got her back to my face
Takes one step forward, looks back,
And then walks away

Dry your eyes mate
I know it’s hard to take but her mind has been made up
There’s plenty more fish in the sea
Dry your eyes mate
I know you want to make her see how much this pain hurts
But you’ve got to walk away now
It’s over

I know in the past I’ve found it hard to say
Tellin’ you things, but not tellin’ straight
But the more I pull on your hand and say
The more you pull away

Dry your eyes mate
I know it’s hard to take but her mind has been made up
There’s plenty more fish in the sea
Dry your eyes mate
I know you want to make her see how much this pain hurts
But you’ve got to walk away now.

"Dry Your Eyes" by The Streets

On Kindred Spirits and a Thousand Mile Stare

I don’t know what made me turn right instead of left out of the parking lot. I was driving slow, listening to the Eagles and smoking a Camel Wide with the windows down and my shirt off. It was hot out today and the sun was bright, I stopped at the stop sign down the street and flipped my turn signal to head to McDonald’s. At that exact instant a little boy, probably 9 or 10, fell off his bike and bailed onto the street. He started crying and his bike was fucked up, I flicked my cigarette, put on my shirt and got out of the car.

“Hey buddy, are you ok?” His knee and elbows were bleeding pretty badly so I reached into my glove box and grabbed some napkins. He was still crying.

“You ok bud?” The chain was off his bike the handlebars were twisted, I put the napkin to his knee, he winced.

“What’s your name?”

“Benny,” he said through his tears.

“Your bike is pretty bad, Benny, where do you live, I don't think you can ride it home?” He told me he lived only a few blocks away, I knew the street, so I asked him if I could take him home.

“What about my bike?” I got him in the front seat and put his bike in the trunk, hanging out the open hatch.

I pulled up to his house a minute later and he told me to stop. He opened the door and ran in through the front porch; I grabbed his bike out of the trunk and walked up. I could hear him settling down and the soft voice of a woman comforting him in the background. I knocked on the door and she came to the porch. She had to be in her mid forties, long blond hair and something in her eyes that said to me that she was not ok.

“Is this your boy, I saw him fall off his bike and just figured he needed a hand?”

“Thank you so much,” type doesn’t do her gratitude justice, “You are a very sweet boy.”

She came out onto the porch and lit up a cigarette, I could hear the kid in the background turning on an Xbox. Amazing how quickly kids forget their pain…if only that characteristic lasted into adulthood. She said her name was Jennifer, I told her mine, and she wasn’t wearing a ring (why do I notice that?). She thanked me again and I started to walk down the steps, I stopped in my tracks, why I will never know, and turned asking, “Do you have an extra smoke Jennifer?”

“Sure.”

I sat there for a minute and had a conversation with a total stranger which, even though it is not more than 40 minutes old, will be burned into my brain forever.

“You have a thousand mile stare, P.”

“What do you mean?”

“You stare like what you are looking at is a thousand miles away, like something is wrong with you.”

I thought that she was incredibly forward. “How could you possibly know that,” I asked, almost a little put off by her frankness.

“I can see it in your eyes.”

I heard Benny call her in the background and she told me she had to go make sure he was ok. She leaned in and gave me a hug asking me if he got any blood on my seats. I said no, I was lying. Then she said something to me which completely floored me.

“It isn’t always as hard as it is right this moment. You are a good person, just keep your chin up and know that you aren’t alone. You can do it, I believe in you” I dropped my jaw and felt my knees buckle. The way she said it made it seem like she was some kind of guardian angel, like she knew the bad thoughts in my head and wanted them out and I just plain didn’t know what to say back. I started down the steps. She thanked me again but I didn’t respond I just threw up my hand in a wave over my shoulder, tears streaming down my face. Who was this woman and how the hell did she just hit me so hard? What just happened and how did she know? What just happened?

I drove back to work, no longer hungry and sat there in the parking lot…thinking. What just happened? Everything seemed so vivid, so clear but at the same time it made no sense. She was a kindred spirit, I could see it in her eyes when she opened the door but why had those few words taken the air out of my chest.

What just happened?

This Morning

Read the below post first please.

Damage control starts early in the morning when I wake up and puke off the side of my bed. My stomach feels like someone stuck a knife in it and twisted and I have heartburn so bad I could choke. I have a fat lip and my head hurts...what did I do? Not again....no...not again. What did I do?

Call log suggests that I went to Maria's and reading what I wrote last night confirms my suspicions. I guess I know where I got the fat lip from. My emails tell me that I was acting like an ass to a friend of mine as well...my friend, I'm sorry. Welcome to another morning of damage control.

They don't even ask what's wrong with me at work anymore. The one day when I yelled, "Nothing is wrong I just fucking hate my life," I think they got the point. I sit here, smelling like liquor and cigarettes, wondering how the fuck to apologize to everyone EZ got to talking with last night. I hate doing this shit, the list is seven people long. Seven people I care about that I get to apologize to this morning because of my drinking and my complaining. I fucking hate doing this.

So, the cat's out of the bag now, I'm not alright with being left. I am sorry I lied and told you I was ok with it. Honestly I wasn't lying to you, I was lying to myself...trying to fend off the demons in my head. Trying to convince myself that everything is going to be ok and I'm sorry so say I just don't believe it anymore. Yeah, so I want to say to everyone out there in my whole life who I piss off, hurt and scare with my irrational bahavior...I'm sorry. I love you people, whoever you may be.

You're the life of the party everybodys host
Still you need somewhere you can hide
All your good time friends
And your fairwell to has-beens
Lord knows, just along for the ride

You think your a survivor
But boy, you better think twice
No one rides for nothin'
So, step up and pay the price

It's the high cost of low livin'
Ain't it high time you turn your self around
It's the high cost of low livin'
It's bound to put you six feet in the ground

So many here who love ya;
And still, you just can't tell
The real ones from those who drop your name
All the while behind your back
They lift the flesh right from your bones
You should know by now through all their game

Been chasing each dream with whiskey
From here to Tokyo
Using up all your real friends,
And no place left to go

It's the high cost of low livin'
Ain't it high time you turn your self around
It's the high cost of low livin'
It's bound to put you six feet in the ground

Dont look behind you
Ahh dont look back
Don't turn to find reason in the past
The past is gone Gone at last

It's the high cost of low livin'
Ain't it high time you turn your self around
It's the high cost of low livin'
It's bound to put you six feet in the ground

"The High Cost of Low Living" Greg Allman

Last Night

Ok I was honest…if that isn’t enough then go fuck yourself. Call me a dick, I already know I am. Fuck that’s the second time I heard that shit tonight, bitch. Just remember I have no one to send this text message to. No one to fucking calm me down. It is just me. I don’t need to be honest, I just do it. Dick or not, you can shove it up your bitch ass. Don’t be so vain…this isn’t about you.

Yeah I been drinking, so what the fuck you gonna do about it? It doesn’t mean shit to you when the game is over and we go home. Fuck it, it doesn’t mean shit to me either. I just drank 7 pints of Guinness, dare me to drive? Oh, I’m crazy…well tell me something I haven’t already heard before. I just keep doing this shit because I like hearing you people say it. I’m just doing this because I am still hurting, sorry I don’t mean to take it out on you. I really don’t. Or maybe I do, yeah fuck it. Fuck you.

Fuck it, it is EZ time. I’m drinking straight out the bottle, she still hasn’t called. That is why I have nowhere to send this text. No one cares. No one gives a fuck. Not one fucking person gives a shit. Even in this stupid fucking blog world…you only care until your internet is signed off. I am a ghost, not a real person…not black or white; just a ghost.

As much as I like to tell myself that I am fine, I know am only lying. I hate lying to myself…because I believe it. So fucking gullible, “look what’s written on the ceiling.” Why am I writing this, because this is my space…my space to be a psycho. This is my space to be a fucking nut and a whacko. This is where I deal with these backstabbing ass mother fuckers with out shooting any of them. This is my space, understand? Mine. I have no one, remember. I am an island, a wounded animal. Wounded animals are dangerous….

You think I am so weak, don’t you? I hate that. Why does it even matter, I don’t even exist. When I sit here at my computer; drunk and high…I am not a real person. I never have been anyways. I have never been real, truthful or not. You know what, when the fake world turned me away, I turned to you. What a fool I was…thinking you cared. That’ll teach me. Don’t be so vain, this isn’t about you.

How many times do I need to be told I am acting like a dick and need to fuck off in one evening? Why the fuck do you think I called on a Thursday night at one in the morning for? Why the fuck did I walk all the way over here? It is my own fault for fucking my head, but you can go fuck yourself for letting me do it. It is so much worse in person, cunt. I knew what was going on the whole time. Why even bother leading myself on…I ain’t worth a shit anyways.

Know what, TBF, you can go fuck yourself too. You knew what was up and I was honest with you too. Faggot, you narced on me, told her my secrets. I TRUSTED YOU. I was just getting comfortable with doing it in this stupid ass arena, but so far honesty in real life has been nothing but trouble. Why do you even give a shit, because TGF doesn’t want you anymore? Because you have no job? Because your friends are all shitheads? What the fuck did I ever do? Man, you fucking bitch, you KNEW my head was fucked from hurting her and you fucking did that shit out of spite. Go fuck yourself; I am simply text and words to everyone else. But you…you are my friend. Ha, I mean were.

It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I wasn’t already pissed off and you didn’t fucking lie to me. OH YEAH, thanks you fucking assholes, of course I fucking remember that I’m a liar as well. Thank you for the reminder. Call me a hypocrite all you want, you can go shove a pole up your ass. I don’t give a fucking shit how many times I have lied…I don’t fucking like being lied to. Hypocrite or not, I just don’t give a fuck.

You know what? I’m fucking goddamn tired of trying to convince myself that this shit is cool. Done bullshitting. I’ll fucking lie to you all day and it won’t sweat my conscience at all. That fucker is dead anyway. The one thing I have learned is that I can’t be lying to myself. I am not cool. I am not right in the head. I am a good faker, but I said I would be honest. I ain’t that strong, tough or committed; I just get stoned and drink. Don’t fucking like it? Don’t want to hear me talk about self-destruction. What the fuck makes you think I care? Know what, if you don’t like it I don’t give a fuck. Like I said, go shove something up your fucking asshole.

Look, I’m just a kid…23 years old, don’t tell me to act my age. Don’t tell me to straighten up and don’t tell me what is best. I’m so sick of your stupid ass cunt fucking whore stupid ass fucking bitch text messages. Know what? Every fucking time I feel my phone vibrate I have three reactions.

1. Throw this fucking piece of shit against the wall.
2. I fucking hope it isn’t you…I hope it is MEG…or someone else.
3. I wish it would explode in my pocket.

Go fuck yourself, bitch. Know what, all y’all go fuck yourselves. Fuck you for making me proof read. Fuck you for making me edit my grammar. Reader…go FUCK yourself. I’m drunk and I hope you find a better blog anyway, “there is always someone better,” someone once told me, and I ain’t it. I’m just some fucked up, stupid, wanna be, punk ass mother fucker. This nonsense might make a difference in the short term but when I get in control I just don’t want to hear any of your fucking shit. LET me smash my hand through a glass door and go to the hospital. WATCH me start a fight with a man twice my size and get beat up. DARE me to call that girl a bitch and get slapped. You BET I won’t put that cigar out on my wrist, watch me…it feels good. Believe me that I wish I was lying about. You think this is all a joke to me, don’t you? Well, my friend…it is. This whole “life” game is just a fucking game to me a, “Cosmic joke with no punch line.”

I am not ok and I am not alright and I am tired of fucking lying about it. It fucking flames me that I lied on this stupid fucking blog. I am not surprised…the true asshole comes shining through. Asshole or not, I do owe you an apology. Pretending to be ok…haha, what a fool I am. Well I’m coming clean now, so fucking line up bitches…take your shots. On nights like these, I used to turn to her…now I turn to a bottle and a keyboard. Fuck all this shit.

So yeah, I lied. Get used to it. Apparently this little experiment that my stupid ass set up isn’t going to work. See, when I get control, I make all the lies come true. I am just not alright. I like being sad, I want to be fucked up and I don’t give a flying fuck what it makes me. I have been in one fucked up situation or another for my whole shit life and I am pretty good at figuring them out. Honestly, I am afraid of being happy. I really can’t ever remember being happy so it is kind of foreign to me. All this tough talk and “Fuck you” nonsense spewing out of my mouth is just jibberish. Look at me.

LOOK AT ME.

I am just a scared little kid. Afraid to grow up, afraid to succeed. Full of lies and excuses. Why do people even care? I just want to run away but I’m too much of a pussy. I’m not anything interesting or magnificent; I’m just a kid…a scared little kid pretending to be a man. I wonder if I even fool people anymore. I don’t even want an answer to that question. It feels so good to be honest, but then it turns around and slaps you in the face. Go fuck yourselves. Everyone out there, fuck you. All y’all…fuck you. From this scared and scarred little kid to the rest of the world…kiss my ass.

What am I supposed to do, huh? Go to therapy? You must be kidding, take their medicine…now you have me putting up my defenses. Want me to stick it out? Want me to toughen up? Quit crying like a little bitch? Come here, I’ll fucking show you who is crying now. Truth is when EZ gets behind the wheel it is no holds barred baby. No limit. This flesh machine that we ride around in doesn’t mean shit when I am in control. I’ll throw it off a cliff just as soon as I’ll get it laid. It is just flesh and bones to me…and it’s soul? That soul is just a tattered sheet in the wind. Not even worth saving. Let it go…let me go. I can only destroy.

Just fucking remember one thing before you leave…please…you are still talking to that same scared little boy. I’m just scared right now. It all seems so big. To big to be all alone, to be betrayed. Too big to have no one to get my back. Too big to go it on my own and too big to admit when I was wrong. If only the kid would have had heard from you today, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now. All I know is that you are moving back this weekend and I still haven’t heard shit from you. fuck

Well…you know here I live.

Look at me now
I've got no religion
Look at me now
I'm so vacant
Look at me now
I was a virgin
Look at me now
Grew up to be a whore
And I want it
I believe it
I'm a million different things
And not a one you know

Hey, and our mommies are lost now
Hey, daddy's someone else
Hey, and we love the abuse
Because it makes us feel like we are needed now
But I know
I wanna disappear

I wanna die young
And sell my soul
Use up all your drugs
And make me cum
Yesterday man,I was a nihilist and
Now today I'm
Just too fucking bored
And I want it
I believe it
By the time I'm old enough
I won't know anything at all

Hey, and our mommies are lost now
Hey, daddy's someone else
Hey, and we love the abuse
Because it makes us feel like we are needed now
But I know
I wanna disappear

"I Want to Disappear" Marilyn Manson.